#// there are only like 30 of us - all of us are on both twit and tumblr - and i would be found out immediately :sobs:

[dojae-huh]

I came across this twit a few days ago and wanted to use the right scene from it for my reply about JaeDo and PDA. I mentally bookmarked the twit and, when the time to write the response came, was looking for it everywhere, in liked posts on TW and in YT history... to discover a day later in an open browser tab, haha. I usually have 20-30 tabs open at once.

Anyway. Both scenes can serve as illustration. Jaehyun likes to initiate something before the cameras, during an interview or a performance. He uses an opportunity where Doyoung has to play along. A fresh example is Jaehyun lifting up his wrist for Doyoung to smell it during DJJ promotion. He catches Do off guard and pushes against the set rule of no PDA in public (the "we are not that close" pretence).

An example similar to the one from the twit. Mark&JaeDo appearence for a Christmas special performance (1:40). The fact that Jae was looking up while his hand was on Do's shoulder and that he retrieved his hand so quickly only shows it was a sneak attack and he wasn't too bold to commit fully. A normal friendly arm on shoulder during a performance requires looking at the person who is held (the message is "we are celebrating this merry holiday together surrounded by friends"). In addition, the three rehearsed, the gestures where agreed upon (hand on chest, hand in the air). 2:01, 2:10, 2:46, 2:56 - classic "we are friends" interaction, a look at each other. JaeDo didn't do it.

Now to Doyoung. The moment on the left in the twit is from Link tour bts. Doyoung was saying he'll take care of Jaehyun. They were bts with familiar people, anything could have been edited out if needed, and yet Doyoung not only released Jae quickly from his hold, he looked away and down, complitely changing his attitude from warm to cold. The "I shouldn't have done it" regret.

On an unrelated note. I didn't miss Jaehyun grabbing a bottle for Doyoung during DJJ media con, it just wasn't a moment worthy of much attention in my opinion (Jae offered water for Woo too, yes Jae picked up two bottles for JaeDo by habit, remembering Woo later, but that's requires a lengthy explanation). One thing of interest I can point out though. The way both Jae and Do kind of slightly forced the water on the partner in these scenes. "You need water, take it". With Woo Jae just moved the bottle a bit in his direction out of courtesy and didn't insist at all. It's a minor difference illustrating the difference in closeness/informal attitude.

[alchemicaldesignquery]

Overwatch Issues: Mission Design

There's something about Overwatch missions that's been bothering me.

A sort of...foundation that isn't quite as solid as it used to be.

I'll be the first to say, Map Design is probably one of my weaker elements of expertise, but there are certain aspects within the foundation of design that make Maps, and by extension, Missions, obvious.

Namely-

Missions are designed to be done in sections, allowing for concentrated effort from players, into each individuated section.

Missions in Overwatch 1, had a strong sectional quality to them that carried over into Overwatch 2 with little change to the Overwatch 1 missions.

Hybrid, Escort, and Control, all remained relatively the same in their execution, with maps following the same rules.

Each of these 3 missions? Are played in sections, That is-

Once the attacking team actives point A, there is no reason for any player to go into or wander around in the section of the map leading up to Point A.

The only part of the map that remains active for a time is each new spawn the Attackers receive, which almost always exists within a short distance of the activated point, turning it into the new staging area for the Attackers to plan their next approach.

Hybrid and Escort do this through activation, while Control does it by literally dividing each objective into a separate map, making every player have to complete one map before moving onto the next.

(Side note: This is also the reason 2CP did not work, as each map was divided into 3 sections, but the section between point A and B, was filler that served little to no purpose; just an overly long staging area for the attackers to approach, wasting time and map space in the process)

So what's the problem?

None of the new Missions for Overwatch 2 are sectional. That is-

Each of the new Missions requires the players involved to be aware of and consistently move through large portions of the Map, repeatedly, to achieve their goal.

Constantly having to be partially/fully aware of variables throughout an entire map, whether it's Enemy Spawns, Objective locations, Re-spawn times, or just navigation of every map, can be exhausting for players...even if they are long time veterans.

It is asking Players to be consistently aware of changing dynamics across a very large area, shifting both their resource management and time management to thinner and thinner margins, as merely gaining access to paths leading to the Objective can be challenged at a clip.

A sniper's value can be extracted across large portions of Push maps, in the 30s of time it takes to get the bot to the start of enemy territory, nevermind to wherever the barricade has been pushed too.

And that value also compounds as the sniper can constantly keep re-spawning or retreating to new vantage points that the enemy has to push into.

Speed Boost goes from an advantage to a must have on Flashpoint maps where the complex twits and turns of it's pathing and extremely fast capture time, combines with both randomized objective activation (and, consequently, randomized spawns) and exhaustingly long travel times just to get to the next. So much so that the developers recently acknowledged this need, by adding a Speed Boost out of spawn.

And Clash? Is a complex arrangement of Respawn times and Objective Capture times, while playing on objectives with barely any staging space between that the players will be activating 2-4 times throughout a match.

Winning an "objective" in any of these modes can feel repetitive, dull, and frustrating through no fault of the player. The dynamics adjust rapidly and often enough, that, without constant vigilance or expert knowledge and memory, the mode can quickly leave players behind to get outpaced or simply caught out by a favourable spawn or angle an enemy didn't even mean to take.

Enough moments of being railroaded by Missions mechanics, and players are more inclined to feel like it doesn't matter and they should give up. I.E -

Stomps will happen the more you force players to replay the objectives or areas that they, rightfully, feel they completed or succeed in and will feel less accomplished for achieving those same successes, each time.

So can any of this be fixed?

Probably not. The foundation of the new missions is such that they are built to be more complex and demanding of player awareness, just to function.

They would make great additions to the Arcade? And could even be improved and made all the more exciting with additional objectives and features that the main modes of QP and Comp, can't allow for.

But ultimately, the stability that those main modes demand to sharpen player attention on what matters in each mission, while limiting the number of different considerations (Pathing, Objective Awareness, Spawn Location, Enemy Location, etc.) just does not exist in the new missions.

Some might consider that a feature; more complex strategy or timings or tactics, but the reality points more clearly toward a specific type of play that is deeply unfriendly to those unwilling or unable to be hyperaware of every critical detail.

Of which? There are many.

[artisancave]

me? adding a new, non-pokemon muse? weird, right?

GAVNER PURL. ( cirque du freak / saga of darren shan. manga based. )

I’m not turning this blog into a multifandom blog - I promise! I just enjoy this silly little vampire series enough to where I couldn’t resist adding this guy. He’s based in a PKMN verse by default.

Notes are under the cut, but for a quick TL;DR - I yoinked this funky vampire out of his source verse and threw him into the PKMN world - as if he was a faller - just so that I could retain lore from his source material while also avoiding adding weird implications to the Pokémon world.

NOTES.

I’ve dropped Gavner into a Pokémon verse - and that is going to be his default one. If you’re not familiar with his source, that is 100% fine, it more than likely won’t influence interactions.

IC-wise, he’s not from the Pokémon world ; he showed up with zero clue what on earth a Pokémon even is. Let’s just say he’s more or less a faller, kind of. He did retain his memory - but much of his knowledge has become obsolete.

He has adapted to the world, and is able to carry conversations through charisma and picking up context cues - even if he has zero clue what your muse is talking about.

Pretty much, treat him like you would any canon character.

Gavner is a ~ vampire ~. How ~ spooky ~! No, your muse probably doesn’t know about this fact.

I’ll go more in-depth on relevant lore and information in headcanon posts as time goes on! I just don’t want to infodump 12 books worth of lore right on his muse page.

TAGS.

gavner ✦ sights set on a thousand

gavner ✦ ic gavner ✦ imagery gavner ✦ headcanons gavner ✦ musings gavner ✦ team

[barnibumblr]

Coffee Run - Part One

Pairing: Ina x Bea

Summary: Tensions are high after Bea is paired with Poppy on a project.

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, but mostly fluff!

Word count: 2045

Tagging: @ikingsley @kaitlynliaofanxx @kwaj115 @sheepmomther-personal @swimmingshoebakerydreamer @domakir @veenast @hellyeah90sbaby

***

“How do I look?”, Bea asked, walking into the common area like it was her own personal catwalk. Arms in the air, the brunette paused ahead of the kitchen island, adding a twirl for flair. Hiding her mouthful, Zoey threw her an exaggerated wink whilst she finished chewing her food. “Twit twoo Babe! You look pure fire!” She reached out to touch Bea, hissing and pulling her hand away at the ‘burn’.

When their laughter died down, Zoey shot a look at her watch “oh shit Bea, you’ve got five minutes to get across campus! And we both know this is a class you do not want to be late for”. Bea ran over to the door, slipping on her shoes and throwing her bag over her shoulder. The girl was right though, every minute Bea was late, was one less minute she could spend observing her beloved professor. As she stood up, Zoey was already holding the door open, half a slice of toast in the other hand. Bea rushed past, stopping to steal the toast with her teeth and leaving before her roommate could stop her.

Zoey stepped out into the corridor behind her, “yeah have my toast Bea, what’s mine is yours!” she called out across the bustling hallway. “Oh and say hi to Ms Candice for me” she added, purposely poking for a reaction. Shaking her head, Bea spun around to blow her second favourite New Yorker a kiss. Still moving with the crowd, she turned again to face the direction she was heading, trying to ignore the somersaults in her stomach as she recalled the impromptu book club reading with Ina. ‘I can’t believe I actually straddled my professor’ she taunted herself, mentally facepalming at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

Bea hurried her steps as she crossed the quad. All jokes aside, she was still desperately trying to impress Ina as her newly appointed TA and being late would not help her case. She was relieved to say the least, when she entered the lecture hall and the Professor was still unpacking her laptop.

The relief was short lived when she glanced around the room and found the only free seat was beside Chloe St James. Bea grunted under her breath, ‘great, just great’ she thought before taking her place next to the blonde. Her behind had barely touched the chair when Chloe threw her first look of disgust, “do you have to Hughes? My day was going just fine”. Bea narrowed her eyes, “it’s not exactly my first choice either Chloe, so how about we both just pretend I’m not really here?”. Along with her retort, she produced the most sarcastic and insincere smile she could summon.

“I’ve got a better idea” Chloe countered, “how about I act like you don’t exist?”. Bea paused, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, all while Chloe stared at her like she was the stupid one.

Ina cleared her throat pointedly and quiet swept across the room, immediately drawing Bea’s attention back to the front. She couldn’t help but think how incredibly sexy it was to watch Ina command the room, how easily she captured everyone’s interest and just kept it.

“Okay, so today we will be heading in a slightly different direction, a bit of a change from the last four weeks. We are going to start covering some elements of linguistic anthropology. I’ve got a short presentation to run through, you’ll have some time to note your key points, and then I would like to open the subject up to debate”.

The professor was just about to continue when a voice called out from the back, “are we going to mass debate Miss Kingsley?”. Ina rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Real smooth Craig. Tell me, how long have you been waiting to use that one?” she challenged. For a guy easily clearing 6ft, Craig almost disappeared in his chair. “Oh and it’s Professor Kingsley, thank you” she added as she launched her powerpoint.

“If everyone could please take out your textbooks and find page 356”, Ina instructed. Whilst everyone started to shuffle and organise themselves, Bea watched how Ina seemed to be searching the room. When her gaze finally settled on Bea, her eyes softened and a small smile graced her lips before she looked away. The eye contact was brief, but long enough for Bea to know Ina had just found what she was looking for.

The class were set to work after the presentation and Bea busied herself, trying her damnedest not to keep staring at the perfect specimen of a woman, currently seated on her desk at the front of the class. Bea’s swooning was cut short when she realised the sniggering she could hear was coming from beside her.

When Ina had finally agreed for Bea to be her TA, it was on the understanding that no drama would be brought into her classroom. It was for that reason Bea inhaled slowly as she turned to the blonde beside her, internally begging for patience. “Can I help you Chloe?” She asked, keeping her tone as neutral as humanly possible. The eye roll she received in reply was already pushing her to the limit, “I don’t know Farmsville, can you?”. Chloe’s tone dripped sarcasm, it took everything Bea had in her not to flip her desk there and then, instead she just calmly replied. “Chloe, if you have something to say, just come out and say it already?”.

Before Chloe could respond, Bea already regretted asking. People in the row in front started to turn their way, aware that it could go off any minute now, some with their phones at the ready.

“Well Bea, I actually wanted to ask you what perfume you were wearing?”, Chloe paused with her hand over her mouth but the brunette wasn’t about to answer. Bea clamped her jaw tightly shut, the muscles twitching in an effort to keep her cool. To make matters worse, Bea could see Ina now watching over her glasses. “Let me guess, is it pig de eurghhh? Chloe laughed excessively, looking over each shoulder to bask in the glory of her own joke.

‘Okay that was actually pretty funny’ Bea thought, taking a moment to appreciate Chloe’s attempt before correcting her. Remembering her voice, she kept it low as she spoke. “I think you meant Eau de Pig, but you know what Chloe… I’m just impressed you came up with that all by yourself!” Bea appraised.

The blonde’s eyes screwed up so tight they almost closed, Bea knew whatever was coming next would be spiteful. Thankfully Ina’s voice rang out across the classroom, “is there a problem ladies?”. Chloe plastered on a well rehearsed smile before responding. “Not now thank you professor, I was just trying to help Bea”, still facing forward her smile dropped to something resembling false pity. “It smells really bad up here, so I was just suggesting she shower more often… To wash away all the pig poo”. As she finished, she gestured at Bea, screwing her nose up.

“That’s quite enough Ms St James. I will absolutely not tolerate any attempt of bullying during my lectures, thank you” Ina reprimanded, her tone much firmer than the class had ever seen. Having Ina defend her should have been everything Bea wanted but instead she covered her face with her hand, trying to hide the embarrassment flooding her cheeks. ‘Oh great’ she thought, ‘ now everyone thinks I’m being bullied’.

Chloe sat back in her seat looking like the cat that got the cream. “See Farmsville, you don’t belong here. Belvoire is a way of life, you can’t just buy your way in and be accepted”. Bea was starting to wonder if Chloe had a point, was she in over her head? “I’m surprised Kingsley even offered you the TA position, I mean what does she even see in you? Maybe she just feels sorry for you, yeah that’s probably it”.

That was the final straw. Bea slammed her laptop closed and started to make her way towards the exit.

“Ms Hughes, is everything okay?” Ina asked, her brows furrowed in concern as Bea raced past her. Bea could only wave her away as the tears prickling her eyes threatened to fall. Ina followed her out into the hall, once she was clear of the classroom she called out to the brunette, who hadn’t even looked back. “Bea? Please stop, are you okay?”.

Ina was relieved when Bea finally halted at the end of the corridor, chasing her across campus would certainly arouse some unwanted attention. Keeping her back to the professor, Bea sighed “I just need to be alone Ina”. And with that she was gone, leaving Ina behind.

Later that afternoon, Bea was still hiding in her bed when her phone pinged.

———————————————————-

1 New Email

From: ikingsley@belvoire.edu

Afternoon Ms Hughes.

Sorry to contact you on such short notice, however I require your assistance as a matter of urgency. If you are available this evening, please could you stop by my office. My evening lecture will be finished at 19:30, so I can meet you there shortly after.

Best,

Professor Ina Kingsley

————————————————————

By the time Bea needed to leave, the campus was fairly quiet, only the odd student passing here and there. Bea wasn’t sure what she would say when she got to Ina’s office, she just knew she needed to apologise. Although she felt bad for walking away from Ina that morning, the last thing she wanted was for her to see just how much Belvoire was really affecting her.

When she arrived the door was already slightly ajar. Bea peered around it, to find the professor sitting in one of the armchairs. Ina hadn’t noticed her yet, so she took the liberty of just watching her for a moment, absorbing her beauty.

The older woman was sat back in her chair, one hand in her lap, the other propping up her chin on the arm of the chair. She seemed to be deep in thought as she stared out the office window, so Bea approached her slowly. At first Ina appeared perfectly still, but as she got closer, Bea could see her furiously jigging her leg. Ina’s aura of calm was not quite reflected from the waist down.

Despite the slow approach, Ina still startled when her visitor came into view. “Oh, Bea!” she laughed nervously, hand to her chest. Bea awkwardly returned a smile as she took the other seat, “Ina, I…” she started. Ina leant forward to listen, her elbows now resting on her knees. Opening her mouth to talk, Bea didn’t quite know where to begin or how to excuse her behaviour, instead her eyes dropped to the floor.

Sensing Bea’s discomfort, Ina knew it was time to put her plan into action. “Right” she said, standing up and straightening out her skirt. Bea watched her move across the room, waiting for the wholesome stack of quizzes she thought were coming her way. Instead Ina picked up and put on her coat.

“We’ve got a lot to get through, so I was thinking we could go grab a coffee first?” she asked, untucking her hair from the collar.

“Are you sure another date’s a good idea?” Bea questioned with a smirk. Although she was upset, she still had it in her to make the other woman blush and she got exactly the response she was going for. Ina grinned, shaking her head at the floor as the tips of her ears turned red.

Ina paused at the door, openly pondering. “I’m not sure of much when it comes to you Bea, but… What I do know is that coffee is never a bad idea”.

Regardless of how bad her day had been, Bea loved how she could bring Ina’s walls down, even if only temporarily. “You’re not really selling it to me, Ina” she teased.

“Miss Hughes, please will you allow me the pleasure of your company and join me on a brief walk to the coffee shop?”. Despite the flutter she felt in her stomach, Bea laughed at Ina’s formality. She made her way to the door, giggling again as the professor held it open with a bow.

***

[justpan]

Title: Unwilling Bride

Pairing: Peter x Reader

Summary: Pirates are planning an attack and all hands are on board to prepare for battle...maybe even the wrong hands.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30

Now that Bae had “escaped” the island, it was just a waiting game. 

Waiting for him to grow up and meet the product of true love so that they could create the truest believer.

Peter of course kept his eyes on this but there was very little he could do to hurry things along, no matter how much he wished he could have.

You wished that there was something you could do to help him, but there wasn’t anything that you could do either; plus you weren’t sure if he wanted to talk to you at all at this point.

Now that you and Rufio were an item.

It seemed like things around camp were still trying to find a new way to operate; everyone was walking on eggshells either around Pan or you and Rufio. Despite how often you assured the Lost Boys that you no longer harbored any ill feelings for your ex.

Of course you and Peter weren’t exactly friendly enough to spend time together away from camp business but you were at least able to speak with each other directly, which was a huge improvement. 

Business was all it was though, it was like he had decided to keep you at an arm's length, and you understood why.

You couldn’t stand to even see him walking toward Wendy’s hut back when you had first divorced, you couldn’t imagine seeing him with her the way he saw you with Rufio.

Laughing by fires, playfully wrestling during training and sneaking off to your little hide away for more...intense making out.

To his credit Peter never seemed to hold a grudge against Rufio, not that he really could without being obvious. Rufio was a great addition to the Lost Boys; he was an amazing hunter and he had even begun training other boys in acrobatics, showing them how to use the trees of Neverland to their advantage.

Things were tense but they were working, you were happy.

Only one thing seemed to be an issue… Wendy.

She had apparently complained and whined enough about feeling cooped up in that hut that Pan had finally caved and given her one simple task.

Berry and herb collecting.

The most basic chore, and it had been basically marked as pointless since the pirates delivered plenty of food and herbs, but the little twit felt like she was contributing to the camp.

You were sitting down skinning today’s kill when Wendy came and sat next to you, staring at you wordlessly.

‘What do you want?’ you asked in annoyance as you stayed focused on the rabbit you were busy with.

‘I want to be friends with you.’ she said quickly.

‘Why? Because I’m the only girl here, want to braid each other’s hair and talk about all the cute boys here?’  you scoffed.

‘No…’

You looked at her from the corner of your eye.

‘Well, we don’t have to braid hair or talk about boys...but it would be nice to be friends with at least one person here, and I have nothing in common with the boys.’ Wendy confessed.

‘You have nothing in common with me, other than what’s between your legs.’ 

‘That can’t be true, my mother always told me every woman has something in common with another.’

‘Really? Have you ever shot an arrow, or been hit by one?’ you asked.

‘No!’ Wendy gasped in horror.

‘Skinned any squirrels?’

‘No.’

‘Then not a lot in common.’

‘Have you ever...bled through your skirts?’ Wendy tried.

The laugh that shot out of you nearly startled you, you had never thought that she would bring up the thing one the two of you would have in common.

‘Of course I have!’ you laughed.

As you continued to laugh Wendy joined in as well and you thought of how confused all the boys must be to see the two of you laughing together, and that just made you laugh harder.

‘Oh my God! Sit down you daffodil, if you can handle the shit show that is your period then you can handle skinning a few squirrels.’ you invited, handing her a squirrel and a skinning knife.

The girl looked horrified, but she took the two items, holding them like they were poisonous.

‘We are not friends, but I think your life here would be better if you stopped being so soft. That’s why the boys are so annoyed by you, you try to apply your stupid manners to them; manners that mean dog shit in a place like this.’ you explained as you showed her how to cut through the skin and pull it off in one go.

‘I know...it's just hard to forget how I was raised.’ 

‘Where you from Wendy, Oz? Boys from there always seem to be more polite.’ you conversed as you watched her struggle to remove the skin like you showed her.

‘Oz...no I’m from England.’

‘England? As in my world? Do you know anything about America?’ you asked, suddenly interested.

‘America? Yes I believe that’s where the bad people are sent to work.’ she said as she finally completed her task, proudly showing off her feat. 

‘Yikes so you are from WAY back in the day.’ you sighed.

The two of you conversed while you skinned the game, Wendy of course sticking to the smaller animals while you tackled the deer and boar.

Eventually Rufio came up to you and kissed your cheek.

‘Stop it, I'm busy.’ you smiled, making no move to push him off.

‘What if I came to help? Can I stay then?’ he asked, holding up his own knife.

‘Depends, did you sharpen all the weapons, that was your chore for the day.’ 

Your boyfriend made a completely offended face, showing you his knife again.

‘Look at this beauty, have you ever seen a blade so sharp? I think I might cut myself just by looking at it.’ he boasted.

‘It is a lovely piece of work.’ Wendy spoke up politely.

Rufio sent her a look as if he was only now seeing her right there, then he looked over to you in confusion.

‘We’ve found common ground over the fact that both of our vaginas shed.’ you smiled.

‘Great...is this that feminism you told me about?’ he asked as he took hold of a boar and started skinning it.

‘Part of it.’ you answered.

The three of you made basic small talk as you skinned all your animals and once you were finished Tootles came to take them and make jerky.

‘I don’t understand why everyone still hunts, the pirates bring us plenty of food.’ Wendy said.

‘Keeps my boys sharp, I don’t need a camp full of fat lazy hormonal idiots. This island would eat them alive, and Pan has a reputation that is bound to lead someone with bad intentions our way. If my parents did me any favors it was teaching me to always be prepared for a shit show.’ you said.

‘And it’s fun, not like there is anything else to do but beat the hell out of each other and descend into chaos. We need the organization.’ Rufio said as you all looked over at a random brawl that was taking place.

‘This is organized?’ Wendy asked in horror.

‘Completely organized.’ Felix said as he approached your little trio.

‘Oh looky here, where have you been Fruitcake?’ Rufio smiled.

‘With Pan.’ the scarred boy replied.

‘With Pan as in...with Pan.’ you teased, lowering the tone in your voice.

‘As in we have real business to discuss, come on I’ll fill you in on the way.’ he said as he walked past.

‘His bedside manner needs a lot of work.’ you sighed as you bid your boyfriend and Wendy farewell.

Felix led you toward Peter’s Thinking Tree, a place you were not too fond of, considering he had tied you to it when you first met.

‘What’s going on?’ you asked.

‘Pirates, looks like they might be up to something, deliveries are coming later and shorter and they seem to be getting a bit too bold. Pan thinks they might be preparing to attack.’

‘That makes no sense, from how it was explained to me they got a pretty sweet deal with us. Why attack and risk losing it?’

‘They are dumb adults with too much pride.’ Felix said in annoyance.

‘Now that you know what I do, tell me something I don’t know. Like how are things with you and the Rooster.’

‘Things are great, he’s great and he treats me great. Things with him just flow naturally with no rush and no hesitation. I really like him.’ you answered.

‘So it’s boring.’ Felix hummed.

‘No! It is not boring, it's...safe. I like him and he likes me, we get along and he’s sweet and attractive as hell. Nothing is wrong with us, we are a good couple.’ you defended.

‘Safe? Look at where you live...you don’t like safe (Y/N).’ he said.

‘I do like safe, when it comes to relationships. I like knowing that I’m never going to wake up one day and everything between me and Rufio has just...changed. Or worry that the whole time it was all just some scheme.’

‘I can’t speak on whatever Pan’s plans are or were, but I can say he seemed happier with you. I think it was real.’ Felix reasoned.

‘So did I, but then it wasn’t, then he told me it was. It was all such a yo-yo game and I just can’t get back on the string man. Rufio is safe and I like that...I need that.’ you finished.

‘Fine, your business I guess, but my curiosity begs to know...how safe is my friend.’ Felix asked.

‘What do you mean?’ 

‘How far have you two gotten? The bastard won’t tell me anything.’

‘Well Nosy, if you must know; we’ve done…’ you paused.

‘You’ve done what?’ he urged.

‘...pretty much the same as I did with Peter.’ you grinned as your friend rolled his eyes.

‘So still no real sex, I honestly don’t know how you’ve waited this long, Lord knows I couldn’t wait to get my hands on a good chunk of these boys.’ 

‘Even Rufio?’ you gasped.

‘Ew no...it’s practically incest, even I have some morality.’ he laughed.

At last you two arrived at the thinking tree and saw Peter sitting at the roots, twirling the vile of fairy dust he wore on his neck.

About a year ago the Thinking Tree went dry and he couldn’t get anymore so he was saving the last of his supply for an emergency. So that meant no more flying for him and you could all tell that it depressed the hell out of him.

‘Felix filled me in. What’s the plan and what do I need to do?’ you asked as you crouched down in front of him.

‘They’re camping near Mermaid Lagoon, which is risky but smart. If I weren’t so clever I’d never expect anyone to anchor their ship in such a dangerous spot and they could creep on through the woods around the Forgotten Forest and ambush our camp.’ Pan explained as he drew a crude map in the dirt to show the path from the Lagoon to your camp.

‘But you are clever, so what are we going to do when they attack?’ Felix asked as he leaned against the tree.

‘Place the archers in the trees, clubs and swords in the bushes, nice and swift battle.

‘Are you kidding me?’ you scoffed.

‘What is wrong with that plan?’ Pan asked.

‘Nothing, if you want casualties and a boring fight no one is going to think about next week.’ you said.

With a slightly disappointed sigh you wiped away his map and drew your own.

‘Move the camp, leave the clearing empty to make the battlefield, have fences built in to trap the pirates in once they arrive. When that is done clubs and swords drop down from the trees; leave the archers on the ground behind the trees and bushes. Once they are ready to flee we let down the fence and send them off knowing not to attack us ever again.’ you explain as you drew out your plan in the dirt.

‘That’s huge.’ Felix said as he also crouched down to look over your plan.

‘It is...so big no one would even think to expect it… but it might be too big. I expect an attack in a matter of weeks. We don’t have time to build fences and move the camp.’ Pan argued.

‘Then I will magic the camp into a new spot and that will give the boys more time to work on the fences.’

‘I can have our best builders working on it now. And the rest can compact the camp so it's easier for (Y/N) to move.’ Felix added.

Peter looked hesitant but he nodded and sent Felix off.

You were considering leaving too but something in your gut was telling you that Peter was upset about something.

‘What’s wrong?’ 

‘Nothing.’ 

‘Try that with someone else who doesn’t know you, you’ve been frowning since you heard my plan.’

‘Your plan is great...perfect even.’

‘So what is the issue, do you think it’s too risky?’

‘No, I just...I would have liked to have been a part of it more but I can’t do much to help with how weak my magic is becoming. If it weren’t for my shadow, I wouldn’t have even known something was wrong since I can’t patrol the island anymore.’ he said as he stood up.

‘Hey, you are doing plenty and we will get through this, it’s child’s play.’ you assured him.

‘You don’t need to placate me (Y/N), it doesn’t help. I’ll just keep eyes on the pirates for now and I’ll let you know when they are close.’ Peter said as he turned to walk away.

‘Wait.’

Peter turned back and looked at you.

‘The boys miss you at camp, and now more than ever they are going to want to see you. It’s nice to see the person you follow into battle and I don’t think they want to see you full of doubt.’ 

‘I doubt they want to see how useless I am now, do you think they follow me because of my winning personality? It’s my power that they respect and I’m losing it (Y/N), once that’s gone I’m going to lose them.’ he said before walking away.

You wished you could say something to say make him feel better but you know deep down he was right. Every single Lost Boy survived their old lives by being cut throat and while here there was an obvious hierarchy you had to imagine a good amount of them still had ambition. 

Without Pan at the helm the island would descend into pure chaos and mutiny.

You had to shake away those thoughts and focus on what was happening now; pirate attacks.

There was a lot of work to be done and thankfully Felix wasted no time on briefing the boys on what was about to go down and got them in action immediately.

‘Pull as much as you can into your tents, its easier to move full tents than everything item by item! Move it boys, this isn’t a game, pack this shit in, fill the tent’s to the brim!’ you yelled as you entered the camp.

It was full on panic as everyone was running around picking up everything they could pick up and placing it in tents. Whenever one was full you would send it off to another clearing that was closer to your little room but further from the Lagoon.

You found it so odd sometimes, your magic still felt as strong as it had always been, but Peter’s seemed to fade more and more as the days went on. You imagined it had to do with his ties to that Hourglass and the island.

Eventually the sun was setting, another thing that was odd to you, daylight felt like it only lasted five hours. At first you wanted to chop it all up to time being useless here and you simply losing track of it, but one day you took the time to pay attention and you knew it for sure.

Plants were drying, animals were becoming harder to find, days were shortening and Peter’s magic was weakening...it wasn’t hard for you to put it all together.

The island was dying, and Peter was scared.

With it being dark now and the temperature dropping you let them all turn in, letting everyone know it was going to be an early start tomorrow.

You noticed Wendy hadn’t been helping too much with heavy lifting but it looked like she was at least trying. Took her about thirty seven years but she was finally putting in the effort to try and help around camp.

For the next two weeks everyone was focused on the tasks at hand, building fences and preparing for the attack.

Everything was perfect and everyone was excited for what was sure to be an easy win and an epic battle; even Wendy who was certainly not fighting in it, but she would play a very big part in it.

You had sent her off to make sure the tents were being sent to the right clearing, in other words you were getting her out of the way.

What you didn’t plan on  was her being dumb enough to get lost in the Forgotten Forest, the one place even Pan’s shadow couldn’t navigate and you certainly didn’t think the Pirates were also that foolish.

But at last they were, and they did cross paths.

Wendy stood before this large group of filthy men and their weapons and she felt frozen with fear as they looked at her, taking in her stupid cute dress and defenseless self.

‘Well boys looky what we have here, I guess even Pan needs to have his needs met.’ Hook smiled dangerously as he approached the frozen girl.

He raised his hook and threateningly slid it down her face, leaving a trail of reddened skin in his wake.

‘P-please don’t.’ she said as a tear fell from her eyes.

‘Oh sweetheart what do you think of us? We would never hurt such a young...cooperative girl like you.’ he said with a dark look.

[qiankunfics]

KunTen Masterlist Part 4

AO3

1.   we don't know how to talk, but damn, we know how to fuck by flowerhairclips

Summary: It’s hilarious to Ten how they ended up fucking on the regular, because Kun was so uptight and didn’t at all look like the type to have several pornhub webpages open on his incognito browser that reflected all the kinks he had hidden underneath his collared shirts and slacks. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

2. Lords and Ladies by Mntsnflrs

Summary: How galling it must have been to see a common whore beside the throne, his hands in the King’s hair, lips against the King’s ear. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot

3. Doctor's Orders by Fire_shockk

Summary: Ten gets some upsetting orders from his doctor, and Kun is there to make sure he goes through with it. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

4. Summer Stars by Mntsnflrs

Summary: He never asked for favours, so when he did, Kun agreed without asking questions. Rating: Mature Status: Completed Trigger: Descriptions of injuries 

5. Now your mess is mine by Livvinamess

Summary: Courting him like an omega would court a beta, and that was a problem, because Kun wasn't one. Rating: General  Status: One-Shot

6. supernova beat by taeyomi (buttercream)

Summary: For the record, Kun didn’t free fall into love with Ten. It was a painstakingly gradual process, but in hindsight, it probably started that very day. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

7. back to black by rendawnie

Summary: Kun hums under his breath. His wrists ache from the leather straps that had bound him yesterday, during a particularly bad episode. They’d had to restrain him. Ten would have been proud, he thinks to himself. Rating: Explicit  Status: One-Shot  Trigger: Self-Harm, Mental Illness

8. when the time comes by kuntenjohnil

Summary: Ten summons a human familiar?  Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot 

9. bewitched by andnowforyaya

Summary: Kun and Ten move into their starter home outside of the city and throw a housewarming party. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

10. i'm gonna bed into you like a cat prance into a beanbag by eatthatup

Summary: All he does is smile, widely, because he loves them, because he’s happy that Ten is happy, because he’s glad they can share such intimate moments. Sometimes it makes him emotional. Rating: Teen Status: One-shot

11. Perfect Little Family by oonymay

Summary: In which Kun and Ten find a crying child in a forest and naturally decide that raising it in secret is the best option. And therein begins a battle with languages, the meaning of home and feelings. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

12. I Literally Hate You by RainbowDonkeys

Summary: Roommates Ten and Kun hate each other and they decide to hate-fuck.  Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

13.  Totally Showed Him! by pinkfire

Summary: If Ten is so fed up, he can just put Kun in his place, show him that he can’t just step all over Ten whenever he wants. What’s the worst that could happen? Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

14.  it's only up from here by unconscious

Summary: Ten can't quite ask for what he wants. Kun is determined to figure it out. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

15. don't you go by angstonly

Summary:  one reunion and way too many drinks later, kun and ten find each other in the same situation that led to them drifting apart two years ago Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot

16. dark white room by rainingover

Summary: Ten visits Kun in the prison wing of the ship. Rating: Explicit Status: Completed 

17. How I’ve waited by crazvdream

Summary: In which Kun and Ten are both dumbasses who don’t know how to express their love. They get there eventually. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

18. Interest by EbbaTriesToWrite

Summary: He didn’t speak word about his interest in makeup but kept indulging himself by watching videos, he always made sure to use an incognito window though - he knew other boys did too but for very different reasons. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

19. Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken by colorskun

Summary: On the worst days, Kun wasn’t entirely sure what Ten’s voice sounded like when he told him he loved him. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot Triggers: Blood and Injury, Psychological torture

20. Take Yourself Home by Phoenix_Tears for Purple_rules

Summary: Seeing them now, nobody would ever imagine that Kun and Ten were once head over heels for each other. Rating: Explicit Status: On-Going

21. love you out loud by unconscious 

Summary: Yes, Kun ge, I like it when you hold me down, and pull my hair, and don’t let me touch, and maybe you could spit in my mouth again? Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

22.  to the moon and back by andnowforyaya

Summary: “Hey, have you seen Ten?” Kun asked Johnny for the third time that night. Rating: Teen Status: One-shot

23. ‘Cause I can’t make you stay if you wanna go by kkkalguksu

Summary: “He… he ran away.” Kun’s mouth agape in surprise. Maybe he never expected this kind of mess. Especially, not on their wedding day.  Rating: General Status: One-Shot

24.  The Moonlight Shines At Midnight by pylador19

Summary: What if you were the very few people in the world, like Ten, who didn’t have a soul mark anywhere on their body? Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

25. actually, I don't have a daughter by mikararinna

Summary: "Look, I'm a single gay man in my 30s who's probably desperate for love. When a hot male with fluffy brown hair suddenly talked to me about his babies after I ranted about my sweet, sweet baby TongTong I didn't expect him to be a single father of two!" Rating: Teen Status: One-shot

26. He Moves Like The Waves by pinkfire

Summary: “You’ll get sand in your mouth. Want me to send you his number?” He has a knowing look on his face, eyebrows rising and sinking teasingly. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

27. from me, to you by madhoney

Summary: story of kunten falling in love over time through the exchanging of gifts. Rating: General Status: On-going

28.  The Games by SourwolfZiam

Summary: Ten Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul (Thailand, 3-time Olympic medallist) announces his upcoming retirement from professional gymnastics a month before the 2020 Tokyo Olympics. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

29. Familiar Flames by pinkfire

Summary: Ten didn't think he deserved to find another familiar, let alone a loving werewolf Kun who smells like sweets and warm bread. Rating: Mature Status: On-Going

30. it's always say goodnight n go by piiisces

Summary: when ten misses the train home, kun lets him sleep at his place for the night. Rating: Teen Status: One-shot

31.  gotta be first by kuntenjohnil

Summary: lmao xuxi i just walked into this bar and someone yelled dibs - Kun Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

32.  Senses. by Lesbevian

Summary: In which Ten misses his boyfriend while promoting overseas. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

33.  let's be lucky people by xflatline

Summary: Kun and Ten have been dating for forever.Everyone thinks they're the perfect couple including themselves. Rating: Teen  Status: One-Shot

34.  Lights down low by mkhhhx

Summary: “Why, wasn’t my office romantic enough?” Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

35. On your side by kkkalguksu

Summary: “I have good news and a bad news.” Kun received a message from his husband that contains this message. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

36.  composure by andnowforyaya

Summary: “What do you want, baby?” Kun mumbled, sinking back down onto flat footing languidly and continuing to push his ass back, teasing Ten. “What does baby want?” Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

37. i wil confess what has been on the tip of my tongue tomorrow by ActivelyWeird

Summary: Ten knew they didn't sell any rice milk, so why was he telling this customer that they did? Rating: General Status: One-Shot

38.  the moment you can breathe 

Summary: Kun ends up creating a fake fan account for himself to try and connect with his fanbase. Ten is a very big (and horny) fan of his. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot *Twit fic AU on AO3

39. Liu Yangyang's Masterplan by Kill3rWhal3D1ck

Summary: *focus pairing is DoJae but KunTen does feature well in the first few chapters Rating: Explicit Status: Completed 

40. you're the right thing after all by unconscious

Summary: kunten getting together and being romo soulmates with intersex ten Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

41. 𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙘𝙝 ✧ : .゜ by tintedCupre

Summary: As night drips his lips connect with Ten again and he forgets the lines of what is sin and what is not. Rating: Teen/Mature Status: One-Shot Trigger: Homophobia

42.  Mr Qian and the oh-so-absolutely flirtatious Mr Lee by writesinfontuwu

Summary: Qian Kun finds a secretary that does his job well and actually puts up with his demands. Bad thing about him? Overly, insufferably, annoyingly, (adorably) flirtatious. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot

43. in a place like this by merryofsoul

Summary: Kun and Ten meet in the hospital, but not in the way you'd think. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

44. Normal but Special by MelodicNoise for kungod

Summary: Kun's birthday isn't shaping up to be what he expected. Rating: Teen Status: One-Shot

45.  Aim and Shoot by softyjseo

Summary: After being separated from his group, Ten doesn't lose hope to find them again. He stumbles upon an abandoned hotel and hopes to survive. Rating: Mature Status: One-Shot

46.  boy, i can't cover up my heart by kunhyangs

Summary: ten decides confessing to kun through a vague, 'didn't-think-this-through' text is the best way to confess. except, it doesn't work as expected, but he's still happy with the outcome. Rating: General Status: One-Shot

47.  He's Our Little Shit by rowx3yourships

Summary: “Tell me why the teachers call me first?” Ten walked over and sat in Kun’s lap. “You’re the responsible adult, not me.” Rating: General Status: One-Shot

48.  Touchin by starryeyed (kaylie153)

Summary: ten meets someone at a club and takes him home Rating: Explicit  Status: One-shot

49. ursa minor by lowkeyamen

Summary: No one is allowed to tell Ten he's a good boy apart from Kun. Certainly not some cheap little lie detector toy. Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

50.  give it a shot by 10vesick

Summary: Ten takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” Rating: Explicit Status: One-Shot

[andhinaratri]

Get up from the infinity pool

No, it’s not that literal infinity pool that I love the most. It’s the digital infinity pool that often sink us down that we don’t realize…or maybe we do?

Another day another week and almost come to another month. September is coming so soon, since today is the last day of August 2021. Is always fast right? The time is getting harder to handle…

Through this post, I will share my experience in the past several weeks (or months) without this specific infinity pool called social media. I learn the term of infinity pool to portrayed the social media phenomenon from the book called “Make Time” written by JZ and Jake. They both worked in the industry that created this social media — Google. Yaps they worked in Google and already in the top of ladder. They represent social media as an infinity pool because of these never ending flow of new post, new twit, new info etc. Yapps it sometimes feel like a blackhole too…so scary that we can lost in space in no time and hard to get back.

Back to my story, yaa, so I already detached from my lovely twitter account and instagram for quite a while now. I know, I am not fully detach from the whole social media — as like now I am writing in tumblr and watching some tutorials from Youtube. However, I sometime feels that instagram and twitter are the double trouble. They are my worst distraction and steal quite a lot of my time. Its easy to get hypnotized when you open those two apps. If you lose your control, you will scroll and scroll and scroll and — often time — without realizing it, you get lost from minutes to hours. A lot of people already talked about it, I won’t repeat again.

So how it feels?

Yaaa, to be honest, it actually make me feel relieved. I smell a freedom. Once I realized it, I made my twitter back in September 2009, this year will be the 11th anniversary of my account. Thats enough time for a children to finish elementary school, isn’t it? For my instagram, I first signep up in 2012-2013 (I forget) which means this year is the 8th anniv 😂 what a wonderful commitment that I made to my social media. How can I am soooo in love with them and put my time a lot for that loooonggg?? OMG — I believe you are now start to count your time spent on social media 😝

Are you not afraid to be left out from your circle by signing out your social media?

I would say, I am not feeling like that at all. From the “Make Time” book also I learned about it. They said that “if its that urgent and emergency, the news will come to you eventually”. You know what? That’s well approved in my case. After I quit — not a 100% but nearly left only 5% on it — people start to reach me out directly, whether they send me a message, call me or even video call as well. From this point of view, I can build the real connection again with all my inner circle. I also realized that by seeing someone else’s instastory - feed - twit - or anything called status is just an illusion of connection. You feel you know how people are doing, but the truth is not. It give you the sense of it, but its not real. So I choose to build back my real connection, the real interaction and intimate relationship, not by watching people’s social media updates.

Hmm, but my job really need social media, how can I quit?

To be honest, I got a loooottt of questions and statements like that. I am here not to offense anyone. Its pure coming from what I feel and experience. Luckily, my job not involving social media for the daily basis. So the condition might be very different from you. I think the problem lays in the way we use the social media. For me, since its pure entertainment tools, I think the time investment (and sometimes emotional investment) to it was too much. So, its not good anymore for me to keep use of the tools that give me contra-productive. If you, need this app so much, and you might be contra-productive if you leave it, then go for it. But be wise. Use it intentionally. Leave it while you are not using it for your job. Avoid to open and scroll for no reason. That’s my 2 cents ☺️

What else?

For my final thought, I want to give you the real effect of this decision. We are all having the same exact 24 hours/day. All of our activities cost our time, including when we open and scroll social media. If before this, I can spend around 30 minutes to 3 hours per day for social media only. So, when I did not open my social media, I get my 30 minutes to 3 hours for free. Then, what I am doing is trading that time for social media to read an abandoned books or medium articles. Also, I use my time to work out and get more productive ar work. The result might be different from one to another, and this is my experience.

To close my post, in whatever condition you may face today, I hope you are doing it well. Everyday we make a decisions and please make it consciously. So that you’ll be mindful of what you are doing and know the consequences of it. Please stay healthy and grateful as always…

[crue-sixx]

Always A Bridesmaid, Never A Bride

Title: Always A Bridesmaid, Never A Bride

Fandom: The Dirt

Summary: The reader is Vince's long time friend (who he's had a crush on forever), who he is very fond of and who is fond of him as well.  It's been a few years since they last seen each other and is indeed a shock at how much she's changed.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse, murder and suicide, suicide attempt

In high school, things were much easier.  You had your life all set out for you-meet a nice young man at church, marry him and have his babies and get a part-time job to help care for the kids and upkeep the house.  As with any school, it did have the cliques and yours was the religion club that everyone dubbed "The Jesus Freaks" but that wasn't entirely true.  The club welcomed people of all religions, most of them just happened to be Christian or Catholic with a hint of Jewish people in there.  The purpose of the club was to research other religions to help the members understand the main aspects of them rather than make ignorant assumptions.

It was there you had met a surfer boy-brunette, a natural tan who had a very good singing voice.  He was in a band, making him irresistible to the ladies.  Well, saying that you met him in high school wasn't accurate.  You actually met for the first time in third grade where he acted like a gentleman with you.  He held open doors and kissed your hand whenever he led you through them.  The teachers thought it was the cutest thing and informed both your parents. 

As you grew up, he changed-not for the better either.  You and him always stayed friends and since your families lived next door to each other he mistook your house for his when he was trying to sneak in.  The layout was identical so where your bedroom was on the ground floor near the back of the house was where his room was in his own house.  More than a few times he'd climbed through your window thinking it was his and flopped down on your bed next to you in a drunken or drugged up stupor, and you were a heavy sleeper by nature so you didn't feel him crawl into bed with you until you woke up to start your day.

The first time it happened, you let out a yelp in surprise and your father started banging on your door with "Y/N?!  What's going on in there?!" the noise had scared Vince awake and it took him a minute to realize where he was. 

You motioned for him to stay quiet and you answered "Just a spider, Daddy!" you then thumped your foot and shouted "Got it!"

Your father sighed in relief and said "Sweet Jesus girl, I thought that Wharton boy was in there!" Vince gave you a look and you mouthed that you'd tell him later at school. 

However, when school did come around and you tried to talk to him, he wouldn't give you the time of day.  This got you sneers from the other girls that hung around him and he caught the look of hurt in your face and he closed his eyes in frustration.  He was being a horse's ass to the one girl he actually liked romantically.  He was always attracted to your innocence, to him you were like Bambi.  After school he walked you home, but just because it was on the way to his house too.  "Hey...about earlier..." he started, but you cut him off.

"So now it's okay to talk to me when your whores aren't around?" you said sarcastically.  He winced, knowing full well he deserved it.

"Y/N, I have a reputation to uphold!  I'm a ladies man!" he laughed, but you didn't think it was funny.

"We've been friends since the third grade and THIS is how you treat me?" you turned to go into your house when you added "Maybe the next time you climb into my bedroom I won't be so willing to lie to my father!" you then slammed the door in his face.  He was kicking himself as he awkwardly went to his own house to brood over it.

The next week he mistook your room for his again, but you were awake working on a project for class when you heard your window open.  He wasn't that drunk, just a little buzzed when you helped him inside so he didn't make noise and wake up the whole house.  If your father knew a boy had snuck into your room the wrath of God would have fallen upon both you and Vince.  "What are you doing here, Vinny?" you softly asked him.

He giggled a little and said "I wanted to say sorry for being a jackass last week..." he gave a salute and said "sorry".

You rolled your eyes knowing he was sincere but you pitied him because he thought he needed alcohol to gather up the courage to talk to you.  "Apology accepted" you smiled at him and settled him back on your bed.  "Now sleep it off and I'll see you in the morning" you then kissed his forehead and he rolled over and began snoring softly.

He wanted so bad to kiss you that night, but he didn't.  He knew you weren't that kind of girl that he was used to fucking then leaving.  You were virtuous and beautiful in a baby deer kind of way, you still had childlike features to your face and personality.  He didn't want to corrupt that in you so he buried his feelings under booze and whatever substances he could get his hands on.  He wanted to know the feeling of you beneath him, him actually sober and making slow sweet love to you instead of a messy tumble of fucking he did with his groupies. 

When morning did come and he went into your bathroom with you to take a shower, you were alone in the house with him.  Your parents were on a mission trip with the church and your siblings were at your aunt's house.  Your parents trusted you to be alone and take care of the house without throwing a wild party.  "Don't you have any soap that isn't girly?" he snorted and poo-pooed at your lavender vanilla scented soap.

"Well I would have stocked Irish Spring if I knew I'd have a gentleman caller" you joked back to him.  You didn't even hear the front door open and your little brother David come in, until he was at the bathroom door.

"Y/N?" he called out "It's David!  I left my toothbrush in there!  I just need to get it!" the bathroom door didn't lock so you panicked and jumped in the shower with Vince, who had his back to you

"Come on in Dave!" you called back, making Vince jump and go wide eyed that you were in the shower with him, you putting a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet "Just don't look at your sister naked!"

David came in and remarked "I would wash my eyes in bleach if I saw you naked, Y/N..." you were still in your pajamas, which were now getting soaked and your brother continued "Now don't be late for school!  You have a presentation today!" he then walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him and you waited until you heard the front door close and lock when you released his mouth.

Vince went rigid when he saw you in the shower with him, this was one of the many wet dreams he had that contributed to his morning wood most days.  You two would be making passionate love among the steam and hot water and just when he was about to admit his feelings for you, he woke up and he'd have to take care of the tent he'd pitched in his sleep.

"Someone's getting bolder" he chuckled and shut off the water, grabbing a towel before she noticed his hardening length.  If it were any other girl, he'd wear his erection loud and proud but you were more than a one night stand.

"Not really" you said, hopping out and getting the floor wet from your dripping clothes "just if my brother caught me in here with a boy, he'd tell our dad and there would be hell to pay" you turned around to give him some privacy.

"You got a point there" he laughed, putting his clothes back on, hiding his growing erection in the waistband of his pants until he got home to deal with it.  "So I hear some rumors you finally got yourself a boyfriend?"

You blushed at that, having met your first love Jeremiah at the youth group at church. "Yes, his name's Jeremiah" you smiled at the thought of him.  He was a sweet boy, from a good family and had the same virtues you did.  He also wanted to wait for marriage to have sexual relations.

Vince's heart sank when you confirmed it.  He had waited too long and let his 'friends' influence get in the way of him revealing his true feelings for you.  "O-oh...." he went silent a moment and asked "Is he good to you?"

"The best" you answered truthfully.  He was the perfect gentleman in every way-he opened doors for you, pulled your chair out and in at meals and even paid when he took you out, despite your protests that you could pay sometimes too with your part time job at the grocery store.

Vince looked down only a moment and excused himself to his own room, where he relieved himself of the sexual frustration and cursed himself for not telling you how he felt sooner.  It was after school when he was done fucking his baby mama Tammi that he heard something that made his blood boil.  After they had fixed their clothes, Tammi asked him "You love Y/N, don't you?"

He paused only a moment and admitted "Yeah..."

"I know it's not my business, but I have lunch period with her about 1:30" she said nervously, stroking her pregnant belly.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he looked at her confused.

"Well, I have a morning class with her too" she twitted her fingers "And it wasn't until lunch that she had a fresh goose egg over her eye..."

This had his full attention "What? What happened?"

"She wouldn't talk about it to anyone" she shook her head "Just kept crying and saying she was sorry" Tammi was somewhat acquainted with you and from what she saw she did like you.  She had noticed the way Vince gave you longing glances in the halls at school, but he dared not speak to you with his friends and groupies around him.

He only had to think a second before he hissed "Jeremiah..."

What had happened was that Jeremiah was more than in love with you-he was obsessed.  He kept watch over your house nightly, making sure you were faithful to him.  His mind was at rest for the first week but when he saw that no good Wharten kid sneak into your window and stay the night he was more than livid.  When he finally got you alone at school before lunch he asked "Did you fuck him?"

You were taken aback, Jeremiah never cursed in front of you much less AT you.  "What are you talking about?" you asked honestly, you not knowing he'd been watching your house.

"That brunette surfer kid" he growled "I saw him sneaking into your house last night and he didn't leave until this morning!"  he was showing aggression where he had none before.

"You mean Vince?" you laughed "He's just a friend.  We live next door to each other and sometimes he mistakes my room for his and I let him sleep it off" it was an unexpected thing for him to punch you in the face.

You fell back and your eye started swelling right away.  He wasn't apologetic and he just said "Next time I see you with him, I'll make you regret ever knowing him..." in a dark tone.  He left you to pick yourself up and took yourself to the nurse, where you told your first lie.

"I fell into a doorknob" you said, trying to smile "I'm just really clumsy..."  the nurse didn't believe you for a second but she wrote what you said in the file none the less, gave you an ice pack and sent you on your way.

You had lunch next and you just broke down in tears when people asked you about it.  You couldn't say anything other than "I'm sorry" repeatedly like a lunatic. Even Vince's baby mama Tammi was concerned, but she got the same words as everyone else.

After school you were walking by yourself, your eye a scarlet letter on your face.  You held your books to your chest and walked quickly home.  You heard your name being called and when you saw Vince coming towards you, you walked quicker.  He sped up to keep pace and you ran the rest of the way home, him hot on your heels.  When you fumbled with your house key he caught up to you and spun you around.  He paused a moment when he saw your black eye, and his facial expression changed from shock, to sadness and finally rage as he asked "Did Jeremiah do that to you?"

"I can't talk to you anymore" you quickly opened the door and slammed it in his face.  You didn't want to, but you were afraid of what Jeremiah would do if he found out about even that small exchange.  Of course he was watching from the bushes across the street.  He had heard everything and what you had told him, a swell of pride filled his heart. 

The two of you graduated and moved in together, him proposing to you after graduation and you graciously accepted.  You had almost forgotten about the black eye he'd given you, until you caught a glimpse of Vince looking totally crushed a few feet behind him.  That summer is when all things went to Hell.

Four years later, you had moved to Los Angeles to get away from everything.  The constant nagging from your mother and the memory of your wedding day still haunted you-the police had returned the wedding video from the evidence locker, you having requested it back so you had a reminder that the best way to survive was all alone.

You had moved in with some friends that lived in a crack den, who were more than happy to show you the unhealthiest ways of coping with trauma.  You started hitting the bars and clubs with abandon, your whole appearance changing from the pristine good girl image to the dirtiest hooker on the Sunset Strip.  A new up and coming rock band named Motley Crue was frequenting the Troubadour and you just so happened to see one of their shows and were surprised to see that you knew their front man.  When their set was done, they all hit the bar and you saddled up next to the now blonde Vince and said "Long time, no see Vinny" he looked you up and down.

"Have we met?" he looked like he was desperately trying to remember your name, like you were a one night stand that was trying to get another round with his dick,

"We only lived next door to each other since third grade, goofball" you smiled at him, you having lost a considerable amount of weight.  You looked more like a dying person than a woman with your features sunken in.

His eyes widened as he realized "Y/N?!" he got off his stool and took you into a corner to talk to you "What are you doin' here?!  This isn't a place for someone like you!"

"You mean a Bible Thumper?" you laughed, then coughed a smoker's cough.  "I put that life behind me, babe" you were already sloshed and falling over yourself.

He began to tear up and said "What happened to you...you never were like..." he motioned to your whole frame from your hair dyed black to the bottom of your high heeled shoes "this?"

You sobered up a moment and gave the best answer you could "Life" and you went on talking with him, not giving up any details about the past four years.  He asked where you were staying and when you answered he looked even more disheartened.

"That's a crack den, Y/N..." he said, even he didn't mess with crack at that time. 

"I know" you giggled "why do you think I live there?"

"Please Y/N...come with me" he pleaded.  Him and his friends still partied and did drugs, but with people they knew would call an ambulance if the shit hit the fan.

You grew defensive and said "I'm not that same scared Bambi I used to be Vinny.  She's long dead" you gathered your things but he grabbed your arm and insisted on giving you their number to the apartment in case you needed to get a hold of him.  You took it, secretly wanting to be close to him too.

After the party had winded down and everyone left, Nikki asked Vince "Who was that chick you were talking to at the bar?"

Vince paled and said "Someone I used to know.  I've been in love with her since the third grade.  She used to be someone who I wouldn't even give a second glance to now, one of those good girl types..."

Tommy stumbled into the living room with "Dude, if you had feelings for her why didn't you ever tell 'er?"

"I was afraid it'd mess up our friendship" he put his head down, it pounding from the hangover he was nursing "besides, I heard she got married to her high school sweet heart" he pouted.

"Well what the fuck went wrong?" Nikki asked.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out" he was determined to do just that.  He had kept contact with you almost every day when he'd go to the crack den to check on you, to which you assured him that you didn't need to be babysat like a child.  He was even more pissed off when he found out how you were funding your habits.  One of the guys who owned a bar down the street said that you'd been prostituting yourself for cash, drugs and booze (which was true).

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he scolded "What happened that made you change so much?!"

You were just as angry with him getting into your business and you said "Why are you getting so mad at me?!  You're just as bad as I am!"

"You used to be such a good girl, Y/N!" he started to sound like a square and he didn't care.  He loved you even after all this time.

"You know you're starting to sound like my father-" you stopped and then broke down in tears.  He tried to comfort you but you pushed him off.  "If I wanted someone to yell at me, then I would have stayed with my fuckin' mother!"

That night, you needed a hit of the good crack.  You took more than you were used to and had a very bad trip.  Jeremiah came back, his skin colored like a corpse and the bullet hole where he shot himself at the alter was in full view.  "You don't deserve to wear white" was all he was saying to you, the word echoing in your head.  You just wanted it all to stop so you tried to end it all.

The next morning the phone in the apartment blared and Tommy picked it up with a groggy "Hello?"  when the caller asked for Vince, he thew one of his drumsticks at him, hitting him in the eye.

"Tommy!  What the fuck dude?!" he jolted awake.

"Phone" he handed over the phone and Vince listened intently.

"Ummm...this is gonna sound really bad...Y/N tried to kill herself last night..."

"What?!" Vince was now fully awake "How?!  Where is she?!"

"She slit her wrists and let herself bleed out in the tub" he caller said "we called the paramedics in time.  She's at L.A. General, on the crazy floor.  She kept screaming for you while they were taking her away..." he hung up the phone and tossed a pair of shoes on, sprinting to the hospital in nothing but pajama bottoms.

He demanded that they let him see you, but they said that you'd be in detox at least a week and then in the regular ward for a month, then he could see you during visiting hours.  The only rules he had to follow was that he couldn't bring anything in and that he couldn't be fucked up on anything.  He obliged and visited you every change he could when he wasn't hammered or high.  "Why'd you cut yourself Y/N?" he asked gently, his warm hand recoiling when he felt your icy cold ones.

"I don't want to talk about it" you said, getting uncomfortable.  The only think you wanted now was your fix of crack. 

"We're going to have to eventually" he put his hands on your shoulder and rested his head on top of yours.  Him fucking you was the last thing on his mind right now, a first for Vince about any woman.

You turned to face him and looked up, a shadow of your former self seeping through "I will tell you, someday" you hugged into his chest and nuzzled there "but I'm not ready anytime soon...please be patient..."

He smiled and hugged you close to him "Okay Y/N" even after all this time, you still smelled like lavender vanilla.

When you were finally discharged, you went to live in the apartment with Vince and his friends, who knew well enough not to ask about the bandages on your arms.  You did slow down on the drinking and drug use, but didn't stop cold turkey.  It was a pace that Vince approved of, that he could keep an eye on you.

It was a few weeks into living with them that you'd left your wedding tape out on accident.  You were looking for something else in your luggage and forgot to put it back.  Tommy saw it on the counter and said "Hey, It's Y/N and Jeremiah's wedding video!  Let's watch it!"  you were sleeping deeply in Vince's room, where you had recently agreed to become a couple.

Mick was there too, him being over to make music with them.  He had met you a few days ago, him wondering about the bandages on your wrists but not daring to ask.  Vince had told him all about you and how he never shut the fuck up about you.  He could see why the blonde was so enthralled with you.  He said "Come on, guys.  Leave it alone..."  Nikki and Vince agreed with Tommy and popped it into the VCR.  None of them were ready.

You looked beautiful in your white wedding dress, flawless hair and make-up.  This was the day you'd been dreaming of since you were a little girl, and even more so when Jeremiah asked for your hand.  You spent all summer planning for an early fall wedding and everything was in place.  Your father walked you down the aisle to your husband to be, where he was looking rather annoyed.  You figured it was just nerves on his end, you couldn't say anything against him about that.  You were nervous too. 

You held hands and did your vows, but instead of him saying his vows to you, he said "Did you fuck my brother?"

The whole crowd gasped and looked at you.  His brother James was the best man, and he too looked just as shocked as you did.  The accusation wasn't true and you said as such.

"Then why was my brother at our house all night when I was gone?"

"You know it's bad luck to see the bride 24 hours before the wedding bro" his brother stepped up, telling the truth "I was only there to help her write her vows to you dude!"

It was then Jeremiah pulled out a gun and shot his brother in the chest, him bleeding out right in front of you.  You screamed and stepped away from him. Your father rushing to him to try and wrestle the gun away.  He shot your father too, him being dead before he hit the ground.  The church was in pandemonium, the people running around to get away from the madman with the gun.

He then turned to you, hugging you close to him and whispering something in your ear before blowing his brains out, spattering your pure white dress with his blood and brain matter.

You had gotten up because you heard something familiar and went to see if what you thought was going on actually was.  You weren't ready to talk about it yet, but the cat was out of the bag now.  You waited until the camera shut off and said "You don't deserve to wear white" causing all the them to jump and look at you, all of them with horrified expressions on their faces.  "That's what he whispered in my ear before he shot himself" you pressed rewind and took the tape out when it was finished.

"He thought I was screwing his brother behind his back" you explained "but I wasn't.   I only called him over to help me write my vows and he was tired so I let him sleep on the sofa" Vince then wished he had waited until she was ready to tell him herself, but that was impossible now.

"Killed his brother, and my father" you then sat down and started softly crying "my mother and brothers wouldn't even talk to me after that.  I spent a year in a psych ward, then wandered around until I got to L.A.  Found all the drugs and booze that could numb the pain" you then went to the kitchen to get yourself a snack like nothing happened.

Vince got up and could only hug you softly "I'm sorry" was all he could say, you feeling him crying on your shoulder.  You touched his arm and cried with him.  Tommy, Nikki and Mick vacated the apartment to give you some privacy.

"That man broke me, Vinny" you turned and hugged into his chest and he looked down at you "even after death, he still broke me...all it took was time and pressure..."

"You know" he pulled away and said "time and pressure make the most beautiful diamonds"  you couldn't help but snort laugh at him and slapped his arm playfully.

"I should have waited until you were ready to tell me" he admitted "I'm sorry for violating that..."

"I don't know if I would have ever told you" you said honestly.

"I wouldn't have asked anyway" he stroked your hair and began kissing you breaking it off to say "I love you.  I always have, and always will..."

"I love you too, Vince"

[sam-not-samantha]

The Blackwoods & the Rheiders

“A train wreck dynasty of cash stacks and funny farms.”

#sltask02

 [Photos embedded, but not all characters have a faceclaim.]

The Blackwoods (Immediate)

Andrew Blackwood | Father | June 21, 1969-April 30, 2017         “Paycheck giver. Businessman. Quiet and kind, yet so apathetic.” Eliza Blackwood (née Rheider) | Mother | October 28, 1971-April 30, 2017         “Whiny bitch. Passive-aggressive. Judgmental. Tasteless. Fucking DEAD.” Samantha “Sam” Blackwood | Self | February 5, 1995         “Best fucking person you’ll ever meet.”

The Extended (And not-so-distant)

Jodi Rheider | Maternal aunt | July 1, 1975         “Anti-vaxer. Vegan. Cunt. Used to get cocktails with Kris Jenner.” Jenna Rheider | Maternal cousin | April 14, 1994         “Brainless twit. And a narc; ratted me out for doing coke only for her mom to do the rest.” Connor Rheider | Maternal cousin | November 2, 1999         “Quirky. Genius. Loves drones. Probably in charge of WikiLeaks.”

Luke Rheider | Maternal uncle | May 4, 1966         “Pretentious. Thinks old money is anything over a year. Football fan. Moron.” Charli Diamond | Maternal aunt-in-law | October 31, 1982         “Second wife. Thinks Luke’s gonna die soon, but she deserves gold. Refused the name.” Bastien Rheider | Maternal cousin | January 28, 1988         “One of the two actually cool people in this family. Sarcastic. Sick. Sweet.” Evie Rheider | Maternal first cousin, once removed | September 12, 2008         “Started sweet, is now fully demonic.”

Paul Blackwood | Paternal uncle | October 6, 1965         “Loudly republican. Loudly terrible. Horrible suits. Still calls me ‘Squirt’.” Charlotte Blackwood (née Gilfrey) | Paternal aunt-in-law | May 10, 1967        “If Ann Coulter was slightly younger and somehow slightly worse.” Kim Blackwood | Paternal cousin | August 1, 1987         “Couture PotteryBarn expert. Insufferable. Screechy. Trend-chaser.” George White | Cousin-in-law-to-be | November 7, 1980         “The manifestation of Kim’s daddy issues. Wedding date is permanently TBD.” Lisa Blackwood | Paternal cousin | April 9, 1989         “Mini-Eliza. Clothing terrorist. Should’ve been aborted.” Salvatore Stracci | Cousin-in-law-to-be | October 22, 1976        “Tall, Italian and scary. Also in a state of perpetual engagement and dissatisfaction.” Alessandro Blackwood | Paternal first cousin, once removed | May 31, 2010         “Had to hold him at a party once. He spat on me.”

Michael Blackwood | Patnernal uncle | May 1, 1967         “I legitimately don’t know if he and Paul are different people.” Natalie Blackwood (née Gainsbourg) | Paternal aunt-in-law | July 1, 1968        “Quiet, but clearly judgmental. Alopecia. Clings to Michael desperately.” Heather Blackwood | Paternal cousin | March 14, 1990         “The only sane woman. Editor at Harper’s Bazaar with Natalie. Goddess. Soul sister.”

Matthew Blackwood | Paternal uncle | Stillborn August 8, 1970

-

Dances– The Blackwoods | A Personal Essay (Written pre-parental death).

It was a dance.

It always was, no matter what. No, there was never any music. No stage. No choreography. But conversations with my mother were always an intricate samba on a tightrope.

It could begin at any moment, about anything. Simple small talk about where I went for brunch yesterday morning could turn into a bitchfest about my weight– as if being 110 was something to be ashamed of. The mere presence of an unopened, monthly bank statement could turn into a lecture about financial responsibility– as if she wasn’t surrounded by new, shiny things and maxed out AMEX cards. And, far more recently, a quick, innocent glance at the alcohol cabinet would have me sat down with some professional life coach while she watched, a vodkatini in hand.

Eliza Blackwood (born Eliza Rheider in 1971) was a bitch. An absolute bitch. A wretched, spoiled, high-strung, narcissistic, classist, borderline-anorexic, Valium-addicted, Shalimar-drenched, Kris Jenner-wannabe bitch. She was lucky she came from money, because if she wasn’t, I don’t think she’d be alive right now. I mean, I’m lucky, too, but I’m grateful for what I have.

Her parents were corporate assholes– her dad worked for Goldman Sachs, and his wife was a vapid, shrill, useless little brat not unlike her daughter. And, of course, that unloveable little bitch went and married someone who could satisfy her financial needs and not embarrass the family name– Andrew Blackwood, a New York politician from a family of Wall Street types (Some of whom also worked at Goldman Sachs, which is how the two met). On paper, they were a match made in heaven. A wealthy politician and his obnoxious jetsetter wife.

But, fortunately for me, even though I hadn’t been born quite yet, Andrew was a good, caring man. While Eliza was (and still is) ruthless, selfish and absolutely disgustingly horrible, Andrew had a heart. He cared about people. And things. Which was why he went into politics. He wanted to make a change. While his family was a bunch of wealthy Republicans, he was entirely Democratic, a fact that nearly alienated from them entirely (if only it had actually managed to keep his family out of my life) which is why I’m still in awe that he wound up with a pathetic Paris Hilton knockoff. A politician with a heart of gold wound up with a blue blood twat who measures her love in karats.

But back to her dances.

I’m not entirely sure where they come from. I mean, no matter how much you analyze someone and their family and upbringing and everything, you can’t pin point their personality traits and their behaviors. That said, I think I have a fair amount of clues as to where Eliza’s horrid personality came from.

While her relationship with her mother is mostly concealed to me, their lifestyle was no secret. Eliza always went on about how well she lived as a kid, how luxurious her house was, how high the thread count in the sheets of her crib was, and how she washed her face with caviar or something. But how she got along with her mother was never fully described. I’ve seen hints here and there– a glare across a table at a gala or whispers on the phone. But I don’t know too much. As far as I know, Eliza’s mother– Mrs. Karen Rheider– didn’t even bother to raise any of her three children. I wouldn’t have been surprised had they all been raised by a nanny while Karen went went on living as a trophy wife. But I assume that the two of them, when they did interact, got along the same way Eliza and I do– and that would make it safe to assume Eliza picked up her bitchy words, malicious intentions and passive-aggressive, condescending demeanor from her mother. The family bitchiness is hereditary.

Passive-aggressiveness is definitely a running trait in my family. I see it to an extent on my dad’s side– his brothers and him bicker endlessly, and they seem to show some slight disapproval for his opposing political stance, as if world views are trivial dinner conversation. But it pales in comparison to the Rheider family’s guilt. Aside from me, and my mother, I see it in the rest of the family.

My aunt Jodi, mother of two, is another disgusting person. Like Jenny McCarthy, she refused to vaccinate her kids because she believed it would make them autistic. Her son, Connor, has caught the flu every single year since he was six. The three (including her daughter Jenna) currently reside together at a nudist resort, where the kids were homeschooled… because they lack their immunizations. But that’s kind of besides the point– any time Jodi decides to dress up and sneak out into the world of normalcy, she misses no opportunity to make slick comments that everyone else in the family is living incorrectly. Thankfully, everyone else has mastered the art of clapback.

Eliza’s brother, Luke, and his wife, Charli (a full 16 years younger than him) are an obnoxiously pretentious couple who are all too proud of their FormDecor relationship and all too ashamed of everyone else’s. Luke has a son, Bastien, who he had with his first wife, that’s only 6 years younger than Charli. However, Bastien’s one of the few people on my mother’s side of the family that I actually enjoy. We share similar morals, and gratefulness for what we’ve been given, and spend every single family function together ripping the family apart. It’s a shame they never hear us.

Even the family elders have the same disapproving, condescending disdain for everything that my mom displays. But they’re far too silent around me to reveal anything noteworthy. The most words I’ve ever heard from my great grandmother Dorothy Cross (my mother’s mother’s mother), was scolding Jodi for her nudist colony being racially integrated, so it’s safe to say not much good was going to come from that generation. Fortunately, most of them are dead– Dorothy passed in 2011 (though her husband is still living off of a diamond-encrusted life support machine), and Eliza’s father’s parent’s are both long gone. Three out of Andrew’s four parents are deceased, his mother’s mother Clarissa Pullock (or something like that) is still alive, though I’ve never met her and probably never will– our first interaction will probably be at her funeral where I’m forced to pretend to mourn.

While Eliza’s family is dominated by a vile matriarchy, Andrew’s family has been dominated by powerful men with miniature dicks who made the Blackwood name known very much for investment banking until bank holding companies began to reign supreme, after which the family figured they would be better off in electoral politics. Andrew’s grandfather, Adam Blackwood, worked up a networth of slightly over $1 billion, and while his successors haven’t exactly been slacking, I don’t think any of them are ever going to do as well as him (but at the end of the day, if Andrew decided to have a bonfire using $100 bills as kindling, we’d recover before the fire even went out). Adam had two sons– Matthew and Bernard, and both received their jobs at Wall Street after him in a clear sign of nepotism. Bernard married a real estate agent named Elaine or Elle or something like that and had a million kids– most of which were boys. I don’t know much about them, and I don’t really care to. Matthew married some Janet something and had four kids– Paul (1965), Michael (1967), Andrew (1969), and Matthew Jr. (stillborn in 1970).

Unfortunately for this generation of men, who, unsurprisingly, continued the trend of nepotism and began work at the same place as their ancestors (save for Andrew who stayed in school, exploring his interests), none of them were able to produce any boys to continue the line. Paul was the first to reproduce– shooting out Kim and Lisa in 1987 and 1989, and as soon as the Kardashian sisters came around, they tried their hardest to be them but soon settled with just being their very close friends (and it’s safe to say I can’t stand any of them). Michael had Heather in 1990, and somehow, amidst a family of putrid, selfish monsters, she wound up a tasteful and snarky angel of hope. Like Bastien, we spend our family events together, an unholy trio of stylish black sheep.

And then finally, February 5, 1995, I came around. Eliza and Andrew had been married for about three years, and finally had me. Adam was still alive at the time and was praying for a great grandson– only to be disappointed for the fourth time. Almost as a sign of flippancy towards him, they named me Sam (well, Samantha, but I’ve grown accustomed to Sam and refuse to be called by my full first name unless I’m being charged with something). My mother made my middle name Elizabeth��� because she hoped that I would follow in her footsteps. She once said naming me after her was “the biggest mistake” she ever made, which I don’t think is entirely unfair because taking after her is the last thing I ever want to do. And I’ve spent the last twenty-one years learning all of this.

People always say that blood is thicker than water, or whatever. That we’re supposed to stick with our families (over friends, or, well, anything). There’s been some mindset that family comes before all, that you honor your last name above anything and everything. I don’t believe that for one second. As if who happened to bang should determine everything about you. I despise almost all of that. And I won’t claim any of the ones that I don’t like for one second. I’ll take a tango any day. Fuck blood. And fuck the Blackwoods.

[gracie-p8-officialblog]

Spilling Tea On Phantom of the Opera 2004

DISCLAIMER: I just want to say from the start that it is not my intention to offendanyone, you're entitled to your opinions and I'm allowed to have mine...

Ok, so, I just watched this movie a few days ago on my laptop and it was pretty much my first time sitting through the movie. I watched a few clips of the movie on YouTube but... Then, I decided to watch the whole movie. And this was my reaction.

Don't get me wrong! There WERE parts I liked but... That was just half of the movie... But overall... Um... It was meh. Ahem. Down to business!

My opinion on Gerard Butler as the Phantom? Um, wow. And not in a good way. I feel like this was a case of a talented performer being grossly miscast as the Phantom. I think this Tumblr post best describes on what I thought of his singing.

"He's supposed to have the voice of an angel, but it sounds like he's been gargling vinegar" ~Quoted by @faded-florals

Don't get me wrong. His voice is quite good for an untrained singer but... The Phantom is one of the biggest musical theatre roles of all time! It's right up there with Jean Valjean. It's really not a role that could go a competent singer, someone who's never sang professionally before but could be good once they've been trained up a bit. The role demands a truly great singer... And he wasn't right for the part.

His voice felt too strainy, growly and rock-ish for the Phantom. I didn't like how Joel Schumacher bought into the whole "sexy Phantom" thing and cast a hunky heart-throb, who was nowhere near disfigured enough. It's meant to be a gothic thriller novel with a small romantic subplot, not a B-grade vampire romance movie!

As for Emmy Rossum as Miss Christine Daae... it's true, her voice is good. She should know though, should she wish to excel, she has MUCH still to learn (Heeeeehee. Sorry. Couldn't resist.)

Emmy's Christine had little-to-no character growth and personality but I don't think it reflects her as an actress, but reflects more on the director and casting director because of how young she was (but more on that later)

Not only that, her Christine was SIGNIFICANTLY dumbed down and oversexualized. I mean, the entire point of the story is that Christine grows strong enough to overcome the trauma of an abusive relationship and make sure that her abuser never hurts anyone ever again but still shows the Phantom compassion and sympathy. I mean, her story arc is her becoming strong-willed enough to overcome the Phantom's pull/spell/enchantment/hypnosis or whatever you percieve it as on her! And don't get me started on her costumes because of the SEVERE lack of modesty.

The chemistry was a little flat because she was underage and her two male love interests were both in their 30s (which totally isn't HER fault, of course, but the directors could easily have cast someone else older)

Her voice, too, strikes me as being much too young and undeveloped. She has a very pretty, sweet-sounding quality to her singing but she doesn't sound rich and operatic enough to be a convincing Christine. Rebecca Caine and Amy Manford do the best job of singing the way I think Christine ought to sound- a maturing opera voice! Though POTO is NOT an opera (you wouldn't believe how many people actually think it is...), it does revolve around opera, and Christine is an opera singer, not a pop star.

And now onto... Everyone's favourite vicomte!!!!!!

C'mon people, put your bottles down. It is a truth universally acknowledged (or at least in the wee Raoul Defense Squad Circle) that Raoul is one of the greatest and most underrated boyfriends to ever exist in musical theatre and it's almost impossible to hate him because of how relatable he is.

Ladies, puh-leeze. He's much more relatable than you admit and face it, we all have a little bit of Raoul in us. Failure to see things staring us in the face, saying or doing the wrong thing at the wrong time, having a 'see it to believe it' attitude when we have little-to-no evidence on something... yeah, don't pretend you don't see a trend. Raoul is relatable whether we want him to be or not.

My thoughts on Patrick Wilson as Raoul, he was one of the few redeeming qualities of this not so great movie. Yeah, the swordfight and Tarzan leaps were a little too much but can you blame him?! And though I feel like that foppish wig made him look more like a magic elf prince than a vicomte, he couldn't control that!

His Raoul was so gentle and caring! Yeah, his acting was a bit stiff but at least his voice wasn't a chore to listen to, it has this warm, tender, comforting quality to it which suits Raoul. I really loved the way he sang "Don't throw away your life for my sake" and "I fought so hard to free you" in the Final Lair (😭😭😭) It feels like Raoul is genuinely apologising to Christine.

I know, I know... The Hadley Fraser fans are approaching with menacing expressions as we speak but let me clarify. I still think Hadley is amazing but... His Raoul kinda felt a little too shouty for me and his Raoul was closer to the LND-canon than POTO-canon (not his fault though).

Miranda Richardson (aka. Rita Skeeter) as Madame Giry is kind of weird. I mean, I know Madame Giry's supposed to be a little Strange and Mysterious. But this Mme. wasn't really Strange or Mysterious at all, or even slightly Spooky at all. She was just kind of an oddball. Popping up in random places to give warnings about the Phantom and looking at people as if she were questioning their life choices or something. As for her daughter... well, Jennifer Ellison's Meg was so-so. She's got a sweet-sounding voice and that added scene where she looked for Christine in the lair was a nice touch... But... Her Meg was kinda forgettable and uninteresting. Meg is supposed to prance around shrieking that the Phantom of the Opera is here, not whisper it in a blase manner that you half expect to be followed up with, "by the way, what's for lunch?" Not to mention, she rivaled Christine as far as low-necked costumes went.

Minnie Driver as Carlotta was spot on! Yes, I know she didn't sing the score but her acting was alright. She was very over-the-top and self-centered, which is great for Carlotta, but I felt her portrayal was a little too childish to be accurate. Carlotta is a successful middle-aged diva who's willing to scream and storm when she doesn't get her way, but she isn't a two-year-old pouting and throwing tantrums. (Yes, there's a difference.)

Ciaran Hinds and Simon Callow played Firmin and Andre, respectively. Their managers kinda felt like twits and nothing more. Also, Firmin's masquerade costume was ridiculous. The stupid kind, not the funny kind. ...Well, okay, it was a little funny.

I'm not going to touch on every song here, but I will say that "Hannibal" was beyond awful (if you thought the costumes in the stage version were a bit risque, you should see the movie ones- no, actually you shouldn't) and that "Think of Me," while very nice, was not particularly memorable. Christine's dress, however (despite its less-than-ideal neckline) was GORGEOUS, even though it looks completely out of place in a musical that supposedly takes place in ancient Alexandria.

"Little Lotte" kinda lost its charm by being spoken instead of sung. And Gerard Butler's voice in "The Mirror" was too rough and raspy for my ears and made me cringe in sympathetic shame. The title song was like a cheesy, campy B-grade horror movie tbh, trying way too hard to be spooky and chilling ("ooh, look, Phantom's Lair! It's DARK and SCARY down here!") and succeeding only in being cringeworthy. Not that I've actually ever seen a bad horror movie- or any horror movie at all, for that matter. Unless you count this one.

Christine's costume, too, annoyed me no end. She was basically wearing a corset and drawers under the dressing gown. *facepalm* The dressing gown is supposed to go OVER your COSTUME to keep it CLEAN, peeps. It's not a BATHROBE. And the amount of eye makeup she had on would terrify a raccoon. Yikes.

Though I liked the random horse because of its nod to the Leroux novel.

"Music of the Night" was so blah-slash-touchy-feely that it made me summarily uncomfortable.

I'd like to be able to say something nice about "I remember/Stranger than you dreamt it" but I have none. One thing that bugged me to no end was how Christine is no longer wearing stockings, like dude, that gives some GROSS implications. Anyways, let's skip to Il Muto!

Oh, but first I should say that "Notes" was rather a flop and that "Prima Donna" is unmemorable and indeed should probably be fast-forwarded as there's a rather unsavory bit involving a crew member showing the audience what he thinks of Carlotta's behaviour.

"Il Muto," I must say, was pretty doggone funny. Carlotta's "Your part is silent. Leetle toad," cracked me up into a bunch of giggling little pieces, and the little vignette of the Phantom tinkering with Carlotta's throat spray made her croaking later on a lot more believable.

Now for "All I Ask Of You", SQUEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! I honestly can't understand how anyone could listen to this song and still maintain that Christine and Raoul don't belong together. He represents everything she needs- stability, protection, a guiding hand and affirmed affection. She represents everything he needs, in turn- someone to show affection to and his childhood friend.

One thing I definitely think could have been left out was the scene in which Erik kills Buquet- we totally did not need to see him being chased, terrified, through the rafters and finally strangled. Gross.

And the Phantom and his rose crouching behind that statue... I think this was supposed to be sad, but there was too much snot mixed with tears for it to be sad. It was, again, gross. So was Gerard Butler's pathetic attempt at the "all that the Phantom asked of you" line. And the lack of a chandelier crash in that scene made the song anticlimactic.

And "Masquerade" was so-so but... The Phantom's entrance is anticlimactic somehow, and his Red Death costume (if indeed it's supposed to even BE the Red Death) is unimpressive. I don't like how Raoul just runs off to desert Christine as soon as things start looking ugly (yes, I realize he was going to get his sword, but still... something could have happened to her while he was gone. Duh, did this guy learn anything from "Little Lotte/The Mirror"? Just sayin)

As for Madame Giry's flashback immediately following, I like how it gives us some of the Phantom's backstory, but it seems really abrupt. You don't even realize until she's done that she was talking to Raoul the whole time- it sounds like she's just randomly reminiscing about Stuff, and if you didn't know the story you might be sitting there thinking, "who is this strange woman again?"

Also, Christine leaving wherever-it-is at, like, five in the morning to go to who-knows-where, completely oblivious to the fact that the Phantom is driving her. Whaaaaaaaaa? How'd he know she was planning to go for a graveyard stroll? Was he watching her through the mirror again? THAT'S JUST CREEPY.

"Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" was rather mediocre and dulled down the fact that it is a Christine Empowerment™ song. Why, exactly, does Christine's father have the biggest monument in the cemetery? If he were a rich and famous violinist as his crypt seems to suggest, why on earth was his daughter struggling along as a chorus girl taking free music lessons?

The swordfight... Well... I had mixed feelings about it. Sword fights are all well and good, but... The swordfight takes away the element of mysterious danger to the Phantom. Okay, fine, Christine getting Raoul to spare the Phantom's life is a nice touch, I guess, but did it strike no one else that his "now let it be war upon you BOTH" makes absolutely NO sense after that? If she just saved his life, why would he suddenly be all, "thanks, but no thanks, I'M GOING TO MURDER YOUUUUUUUUUU"?

And "Twisted Every Way" was after "Wishing" which made ZERO sense. Plus, I didn't like how they cut most of it because in the musical, it gave Christine a spine!

"Point of No Return"? Hooooooo boy....... There are so many things wrong with this number. Let's just a list a few.

*HOW did no one recognise the Phantom through his "disguise"?! At least in the stage play, it made more sense because of how he was wearing a cloak that obscured most of his body.

*Christine's sleeves falling down over and over again were REALLY annoying.

*It was just too touchy-feely for my taste.

*The fact that Emmy Rossum was a teenager during filming made this scene gross because of the way they oversexualized Christine in this scene.

*Gerard Butler's voice in that scene made me cringe and shake my head in sympathetic shame.

*In the stage play, Christine ran from him, showing her own agenda and resistance to his pull! While in the movie, she didn't resist him!

*Now for the one that took the cake... The disfigurement! Or it would be a disfigurement if it actually made him look, y'know, deformed. Instead, as several people have put it, he looks like he got a bad sunburn or something. It's really rather pathetic. It makes him look more like a drama queen than he already is! Yeah.... I really don't like this movie.

On to... Final Lair!!!!!!!! It was a flop. From Raoul's whining and flailing around and his stringy hair flopping about (shallow complaint, I know, but it's so ugly) to Christine's sappy melodramatic "don't make me choooooooose" faces to the Phantom's prancing around with his ropes and maniacal laughter that somehow wasn't really scary at all... yeah, it was a flop. A major, major flop. And though The Kiss wasn't all that bad, all I could think of was, "She's SIXTEEN! SIX! TEEN! THIS IS CREEPY, DISTURBING AND GROSS!"

Which is why it's so difficult for me to admit that, um, I... cried at the end.

I COULDN'T HELP IT GUYS HE WAS ALL ALONE THERE IN HIS LAKE WITH HIS MONKEY AND HIS SMASHED MIRRORS AND HE WAS CRYING AND IT WAS SAD.

And then that rose on the gravestone? That single red rose? And the look on Old Raoul's face (still Patrick Wilson, by the way, under all that makeup) when he saw it and realized he wasn't the only one visiting Christine's grave? Yup, I lost it again there, too. And I really didn't want to. Because I tend to cry over movies I love, y'know? And I didn't love this movie. At all

Yet I still cried at the end. I'm not really sure why. I think perhaps it had something to do with the way the story still "got" me, deep down inside, despite the lousy casting and less-than-perfect singing and ridiculously unnecessary elements that totally didn't need to be there. It's still a tragically beautiful romance, and even a bad film can't kill that.

In conclusion, I think Mary Poppins can best express what I thought of POTO 2004.

In conclusion, I rate it a 2.7/5

[whycraft]

The Three Body Problem: Chapter 1

AO3 | Wattpad | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

It started as a joke on the Watcher’s part. They were amused by the simple, pointless lives of players, and wanted to pretend to live like one for a while. So they’d slipped inside Grian’s head, as he was one of the more entertaining ones. That decision had sealed their fate - and their consciousness inside Grian’s head. As it turned out, players were simply not meant to be vessels for Watchers, and now they were trapped there forever.

The Watcher had first revealed themself to Grian a few months before he moved on from Evo. It was stressful for both of them - to live as two minds inside one body, and to keep the other Evolutionists from finding out. The fact of the matter was that Grian and the Watcher did not get along. The Watcher thought Grian was too inferior for them to even consider respecting him, and Grian thought the Watcher was a stuck-up twit (he was right).

Eventually, though, they worked out a grudging, mutual respect and learned to get along. After that, Grian got far fewer headaches, and the Watcher stopped criticizing everything Grian did.

They got invited to Hermitcraft. Well, Grian got invited to Hermitcraft. The Watcher was still a secret. Grian accepted immediately, and the Watcher argued with him for weeks about it. Still, Grian refused to change his mind.

Had the Watcher known what was going to happen once they joined the Hermitcraft world, they would have protested even more and done everything in their power to prevent Grian from accepting that invitation.

—————-

It was nighttime, and no one else was on the server but them. Usually, Grian would have let the Watcher take control of the body by now, just to let them have a chance to stretch their muscles. Tonight, however, Grian was on a build high, and he couldn’t have handed over control of the body if he wanted to.

We ought to go to bed, grumbled the Watcher. You’re going to get us killed, building in the ocean at night like this.

“Can’t be bothered,” Grian said out loud. “Bed’s all the way back at spawn.”

We’ll be back at spawn anyway if we die. Except if we die, we’ll lose our stuff, so we’ll probably die again trying to get back to it.

“Don’t try to use logic on me, it won’t work!”

The Watcher sighed. Never does.

A drowned ate them not 30 seconds later, and the Watcher radiated a loud, smug, “I told you so” sort of emotion inside Grian’s head. As he laid down on one of the beds set up at spawn, Grian told them to shut up.

Something incredibly peculiar happened once Grian closed his eyes: time stopped. You see, all players feel the passage of time in the world they are in - it’s one of those things that separates players and Watchers. Watchers are more powerful beings, and consider themselves to be superior to such concepts as time. Therefore, over time (ironically), the Watchers actually lost the ability to feel the passage of time. This is why the Watcher had no idea that anything out of the ordinary had happened.

Grian kept his eyes shut. He didn’t seem to have much of a choice in the matter - no matter how hard he tried, his eyelids wouldn’t move.

…hello?

Who are you? The Watcher demanded immediately.

…i am me.

Of course, silly me. That makes perfect sense.

Grian hushed the Watcher and addressed whoever - or whatever - else was inside his head. Do you have a name?

i believe i am Poultry Man. i am in need of a body. can i have this one?

This one’s taken, snarled the Watcher.

Shut up, it’s my body, not yours.

But I exist within its confines as much as you do!

You didn’t seem to care that I was in here when you invited yourself in, Grian pointed out. Poultry Man, what are you? Are you a mob?

mob? mm. no. i am not.

What do you want a body for?

i need to have a body to throw eggs.

Grian wasn’t sure if he’d heard him right. Throw eggs?

yes!

What for?

it’s funny to watch people react.

It clicked. You prank people!

yes! but only harmless pranks. with eggs.

I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let you in for a bit, Grian mused.

The Watcher had other ideas. Absolutely not! You cannot seriously be considering this!

I’m not.

The Watcher sighed in relief. Oh, thank goodness.

In fact, I’m not considering it at all: I’ve already made up my mind. Come on in, buddy!

[melodiouswhite]

Live forever - Ch. 01

(A/N: I’ve been obsessed with the historical Dr. Faust lately, so I decided to indulge the urge to create content - I hope you like it. I’ll write about the other members of the alchemist group later on too. ^^)

Johann Georg Faust had been called a lot of things throughout his life.

Charlatan, sorcerer, madman, heretic, liar, necromancer, criminal, hell child, accomplice of the Devil … he had stopped counting all the insults that had been thrown at his ginger-haired head.

Some of them were true, others weren't.

A charlatan? No.

Sure, he was versed in the art of stage magic (and used it more than often), but his magic powers were genuine. They had been since his birth.

Of course he had no idea where they had come from.

He didn't know why he could read minds, foresee the future and perform other things that other people weren't capable of. But it was so, hence he took it and used his abilities to their full potential. This was nothing to dwell on and overthink anyway.

With mixed feelings he stood in front of the grave.

A name and numbers on a tombstone made of the most expensive stone he had been able to afford.

He owed it to her.

Once he had been both grateful and resentful towards her for the drastic things she had done to make sure that he could go to the best schools around.

He had been resentful, because others had called him a bastard and a demon child, had bullied him for always asking questions, had feared him because of his abilities – and for all of this he had blamed her.

He had been grateful, because she had supported him and believed in him through it all, had called him a miracle and a gifted, blessed child, had told him that he was special and meant it.

It was because of her, that he was what he was.

He was a universal genius, a bachelor, physician, philosopher, teacher, alchemist, astrologer, medium … so many things. Yet, it wasn't enough for him, he wanted to learn so much more, more than a human could possibly learn in a single lifetime.

But it was only because of her, that he could even acquire all the knowledge.

That he could even read and write.

With a bitter smile, he placed the flower bouquet onto the grass.

“Hello, mother. I'm sorry I didn't visit you sooner.”

When he was 32 years old, he stumbled over an old, mysterious book.

Being the incorrigible glutton for knowledge he was, he had acquired it immediately.

The book spoke of hidden and forbidden arts and awoke something in him that he had never known was there.

Another kind of hunger.

Until now he had thought that perhaps he could try to be content with being a respected doctor and master of arts, work at a university and help lots of students become another generation of highly educated, arrogant twits, who flaunted their degrees and doctorates. Perhaps he would have married, even though he had never loved in his whole life.

That was out of question now.

Now he wanted something else.

He wanted to become a sorcerer. And if not that, at least the great alchemist of his time.

Oh to be on the same step of so many other great alchemists, perhaps accomplish even more than they did …

He wanted immortality.

Three years later, he hadn't achieved immortality yet.

Sure, he was famous – his name was known in a surprisingly large part of the Holy Roman Empire and it would be known for a very long time.

But metaphorical immortality wasn't enough!

He wanted the real deal!

He wanted to live forever and be forever young! He wanted to make all of his dreams come true, see the world, learn everything there was to learn, maybe write it down and share it with everyone – so many things!

And he would do anything to be able to.

Giving up was not an option. He wasn't like everyone else. And he wouldn't die at fifty or less, like everyone else.

When he was 37 years old, he looked in the mirror and scowled at his own reflection.

He was beginning to show signs of old age; there were bags under his eyes and soft wrinkles around them. And were those frowning wrinkles on his forehead?

From what he had read in the book, the elixir of immortality would stop the ageing process, but it wouldn't make him younger.

He had to find it quickly, before he started to look like some wizened old hermit!

A few weeks after discovering his first wrinkles, he spotted his first grey hair and spiralled into a mental breakdown.

He put more effort into his alchemy and not just once it ended in small explosions.

On top of that, he had to evade authorities, who accused him of the worst crimes and angry mobs that thought he was a witch or possessed.

No wonder I'm already growing old and grey.

When he was 38 years old, he discovered how to make pure gold.

Now he couldn't be that far away from immortality too.

Besides, he could now grow stinking rich.

Sure, he knew how to present himself and often read horoscopes for rich people – then, he was also a surgeon and miracle healer – one of the best, may he add! No false humility!

But if he suddenly became stupid rich, people would ask questions and assume the craziest stuff – or find out his secret. That would get him into trouble with … basically everyone who desperately needed or wanted gold.

“I need to save the gold-making for times, when I really need it”, he mumbled to himself, “And only enough to live fine.”

He wasn't quite 44 years old, when he achieved his goal by accident.

Once he had made gold, but forgot to empty the containers with the gold-making substances afterwards – it had been late and he had been overtired from lack of sleep.

When he had discovered his mistake the next morning, he opened the vials to clean them of the gooey substances.

But as he scraped the remains off the glass, he found something in one of the vials.

His blue-grey eyes widened.

It was a small, red stone.

At first he thought it was a ruby and considered selling it to the next jeweller.

But as he held it into the light, it began to shine in rainbow colours and the light revealed thin golden veins within the red material.

This was something new!

Deciding that he wanted a better look, he put it in a bowl of water to wash the dirt off.

The water turned purple.

He quickly opened his book about hidden alchemy to make sure that this was what he thought it was.

And sure enough …

“Eureka!”, he whispered.

He had found the Philosophers' Stone!

After drinking the purple water – which had tasted horrible, by the way – he found the next morning, that his wrinkles were gone.

Sure, the bags under his eyes were still there – but he knew that they had little to do with his age anyway.

He had finally achieved his goal.

Overwhelmed with joy, he threw his head back and laughed and cried with sheer happiness.

This is the best day of my life!

When he was 51 years old, he realised that he wouldn't be able to hide his agelessness for much longer.

So far it was still easy to do so, as he wandered from place to place and no one knew how old he really was. Those were strangers, people he'd meet once and then never again.

But he was naturally a flashy and showy person with a remarkable appearance and a lot of people had at least heard of him.

Sooner or later, some elderly person, who had met him or heard of him before, would recognise him and question, why he looked so young after so many years.

I guess I will fake my death as soon as enough people ask me about my age.

He was 70 years old, when he decided that it was time to get lost.

Just a few days before, a little child in a nearby village had asked him to cure her sick grandfather and he had done so. Unfortunately, the old man had remembered meeting him 30 years before and had recognised him immediately. He had tried to convince the old man, that he was the son of the famous Doctor (of himself), but the other hadn't bought it and instead accused him of necromancy and devil worship, or witchcraft, as the inquisition and the common folk called it.

Technically, the old peasant was right. He was, by all standards, a necromancer, just as much as he was an alchemist, astrologer and surgeon.

Still, he couldn't help but take offence. He wasn't a worshipper of Satan!

“How dare you!”, he shouted in outrage, “I cure you for free out of goodness of my heart and this is how you thank me! The audacity! The gall to attack my honour like this! Had I known that I would be insulted like this, I wouldn't even have come here! Accused of witchcraft by a peasant I just cured, Jesus and Maria! Never have I been so mortified in my entire life! Oh, I have half a mind to go to court for this injury, but this isn't even worth it!”

Then he had rushed off, ere he did something he'd regret. The little girl had apologised for her grandfather's behaviour and thanked him for the help, but he had left the village the very same day.

Now he was sitting in a shoddy hotel room and contemplating on how he was to go about it.

He couldn't just vanish into thin air, that would raise suspicion.

“They need to think me dead.”

It was in 1541 – five years later – when he finally had all the things he needed for his plan.

Somehow he had managed to make a dummy that looked like him, without anyone noticing.

He bought a real hair wig, some old clothes and posed with that outfit in front of the mirror in his hotel room in Staufen. Good. He didn't look like himself at all.

Of course he could just have turned into an animal – by now he was capable of that – but the superstitious folks in the area tended to notice the sudden appearance of black animals rather than strangers coming and going.

Now he just had to choose which explosive he wanted to use.

He left a generous tip to the landlord as compensation for the room he was about to destroy.

Then he dressed the dummy in his own clothes, mixed the chemicals together and climbed out of the window over a wall, before they blew up.

The explosion was deafening, he saw debris and parts of his dummy flying over the wall and faintly heard the screams of the people in the hotel.

Just as he was about to bail, he heard someone exclaim: “The Devil himself has finally got him!”

He fumed, but swallowed his irritation. There was no time for losing his temper right now.

No one even took notice of him, as he left the borough, dressed as a poor citizen.

A few years later, he found that he had become something of a folk legend.

That amused him not just a little  - and perhaps it flattered him too. It meant he had left enough of an impression for the people to still talk about him after his “death” - they often forgot about people quickly, once they were gone. But he would be remembered.

They would tell stories about him for a long time.

He was now immortal both literally and metaphorically.

[talpup]

Light In the Darkness:31

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers.

***If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887595/chapters/57541036

Will go back to weekly updates on Tues.  But this Tues chapter was short, as is this one.  Lots of stuff will be happening in the next chapter and I didn’t want to wait 2-weeks to get to post it.

Hope all is doing well. Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

Taglist: @captncappuccino​ .

Chapter 30

Over the next three days Jax was thankful when Teris was gone.  He knew what she was doing over at the Crimson Lions base, and though he wished her luck he didn’t like it.  The only reason he allowed her long absence for three days in a row was because when she was home it was as if she and Yami were having a contest over who could slam the hardest.  While doors seemed to be there favorite, anything was up for grabs.  Hands, books, cups, plates, candlesticks, even his favorite porcelain niknak had been shattered to pieces when Teris had picked it up only to crash against the sofa table it sat on when Yami had left the room closing the door behind him with a resounding crack.

A knock sounded on the Captain's office door.

Bronn peaked his head through the slightly open door.  “I hope you had your fill of peace and quiet.”

A thunderous bang sounded throughout the house.

“Need I say more.”  Bronn said entering with a sigh.

“She’s back.  Great.”  Jax said with sarcastic enthusiasm.

Another boom sounded from somewhere else in the house.

“Isn’t that sweet.  It’s as if Yami’s welcoming her home.”  Jax glowered.  “By trying to tear down my base.”

“I wonder if they figured out a new way of communication.”  Bronn jested.

“This is serious, Bronn.”  Jax said leaning forward.  “This place is ancient and barely standing as it is.”

“Oh, this place is fine.”  Bronn waved him off patting the wall feeling one of the stones there wobble.

At yet another resounding slam from Teris or Yami, Jax couldn’t tell which, the stone Bronn had patted fell to the ground.

“I’ll get that.”  Bronn bent.

“No need.”  Jax said using his magic to put the stone back in place. “But you see my point.”

“Aw, Captain.  They’re kids.  They’ll get over it  It’s better it happened now than later.”

Jax tilted his head sensing more his Vice Captain wasn’t saying. “Bronn.  Have you played a part in bringing my base down around my ears?”

“Not in the least!”  Bronn said pulling his head back and shaking it guiltily.

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing!”

“Bronn!” Jax slammed an open mana cloaked hand on the desk adding his own note to Yami and Teris’ chorus.

Bronn flinched at the desks cracking.  “I don’t know why the girl’s so mad.  I had nothing to do with that.  I swear.”

“And Yami?  Why did he return from the Wild Fire mission to Clade so changed?”

Bronn looked away.

“You tell me what you did or mana help you I’ll ring you out like a first year recruit.”

“I didn’t do anything.  The boy apparently heard that royal braid faced brat call Teris his Intended and was asking Olsen what it meant.  Olsen told him.  And when the kid refused to accept the truth I set him right.  It’s for the best, Captain.  For both of them. Whether the girl was leading him on or not we all know in the end she’s going to do what her family demands and marry Nozel.  If she wasn’t leading him on having him pull away will save her some heartache and the temptation of making Yami false promises.  It’ll certainly save him a lot of pain.”

There was another riotous bang.  Jax closed his eyes trying to control his temper at Bronn, Yami, and Teris.  “You don’t think those two aren’t in pain?”  He asked opening his eyes.  “They’re tearing this place apart!”

“Think of how much worse it would have been if they would have continued down the path they were headed only to have her--”

Jax rose from his seat knocking it over and lifted his desk only to slam it down.  Three of its legs broke but that hardly mattered as the crack he had made earlier lengthened and deepened splitting the desk in half.  Jax didn’t even notice as he stormed at his Vice Captain. “She’s not marrying that prideful, royal twit!  You twit!”

Bronn blinked at his Captain and the broken desk.  “I—I don’t understand.  Their families intend her and Nozel to wed.  Have so since they were children.”

“I doesn’t matter what their families want.”  Jax growled.  “There is no way that girl is going to do it.”

“She’s willing to be banished.”  Bronn said as if it were a challenge.

“Yes.”

Bronn paused a moment.  “She may say that.  The girl might even believe it.  But, she’ll never go through with it.  They never do.”

“They’re not all alike.”  Jax told.  “Look at Julius.  She’s his sister. You truly think she won’t do what she says?  The girl can be more stubborn than you and me put together.”

“Yeah but there’s stubborn and there’s foolishness.  My father--”

“She’s not your father.”

Bronn fell silent.  After a moment he said.  “She’s really not going to do what she’s told?”

“She’s been going against Sir Jorah’s direct orders and searching for answers.  What do you think?”

“But being reprimanded and possibly discharged is completely different form being ousted from your family and banished from your homeland.”

“Julius told me she has been prepared to face banishment for most of her life.  He said it’s only recently that she thought of trying to make Knights Commander in an effort to prove herself and stay.”

Bronn looked up.  “But that’s impossible!  Even if Greywright showed signs of tiring she still wouldn’t be at that level in the three to four years she has left.”

“Julius put the idea in her head to give her hope.  I think that they both know how unlikely such a happy occurrence is from coming true.  But a small hope is better than none.  Wouldn’t you say?”

Still doubtful Bronn persisted, “She’s really prepared to face banishment?  To be exiled from the Clover Kingdom.  Forever.”

“I know what banishment is.”  Jax snapped.  “And I can assure you every royal who ever considered challenging their family’s wishes does too.”

“Which is why considered never turned into action.”

“This is different,” Jax said.

“Why? How so?”  Bronn demanded.

“Cause Julius made it clear when he asked me to look after and help his little sister in any way I could.  Cause after nearly a year and a half of watching and getting to know that girl, she has never once given me a reason to doubt she isn’t a woman of her word.”

30.2

Yami exited the house through the kitchen door.  Hand cloaked in mana, he slammed the door closed.  He barely noticed the cracking sound of wood as the door splintered and broke apart.

What did Teris have to be mad about, he wondered sullenly.  Her anger only served to make him angrier.  Sure he may have confused and upset her at the wedding when he left her without a word but he hadn’t kissed anyone on the cheek.  He hadn’t disappeared all day, everyday for three days straight.

Where was she going anyway?  He refused to ask Tobin or Olsen if they knew. Gendry and Bran never paid enough attention to know.  If he asked Iban and the man knew he’d likely kill him for keeping tabs on Teris.  Asking Venice or Abril were out of the question.  He could always follow her but scrapped that idea as soon as it entered his head.  He wasn’t some desperate, stalking dog.  He shouldn’t even care.  He didn’t care.  He had had his last touch of her when they danced.

Yami stopped on the path halfway to Pilfer’s pen and closed his eyes remembering Teris’ scent, her breath on his neck and chest as he had waited for her to put her hand on his shoulder and accept his offer, his demand, to dance.  He remembered her heaving bosom and thinking that maybe stupid ball gowns had something going for them after all.  He could almost feel her hand in his.  Her waist and torso pressed tight against him.  The unwanted image of her turning and giving Nozel a kiss on the cheek rudely intruded undoing the calm that had begun to wash over him.

She might not know what had happened to pull him away but that was how he wanted it.  He knew his resolve would never hold if she tried to convince him that she wouldn’t obey her family’s wishes.  More over he didn’t want her to.  To face banishment.  He couldn’t do that to her.  He had lost his home once and knew what it was like. He wouldn’t be the cause that made her lose hers.

Still, none of this explained why she had begun to exit when he entered. She had been the one to first slam a door.  His temper quickly rising to match hers.  He didn’t like it, the way his anger at her reignited.  His temper towards her had already begun to die down, only to rise again because of her recent attitude.  Her now aloof, aggressive behavior, and the slamming doors had his rage and resentment flaring higher than it had ever been.  Especially since she was now disappearing till right before lights out, and that remembered kiss she had given Nozel.

For the first two days, Yami had gone upstairs after dinner planting himself at the window in Bran’s room waiting to see who, if anyone, escorted her back.  The entire time he had gone back and forth from being mad and disgusted with himself for still caring enough to sit there like some lovesick fool, then switching over to being infuriated at her.  When she returned alone the first night he had a moment of relief thinking that meant she wasn’t seeing the Braid Face Silver Eagle.  But then he wondered if she had somehow convinced Nozel not to see her back.

Thankful she had returned much earlier tonight, if not in time for supper. Yami continued down the wooden path.  He reached Pilfer and unlatched the cage.  The Saber Wolf laid down, accustomed to the routine.  Yami mounted and patted the beasts flank signaling Pilfer to get up.

“Let’s blow off some steam shall we.”  Yami said lowering himself to fit under the kennels door and urging Pilfer with a kick.

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Legs

notyoursneverwas-post said: hello my dear, are your requests open? if so, i have a little idea! 💓 could you write an imagine with reader x roger, where she is a politics student and she's just really into politics and really smart and one time she's with roger at the club, she wants to fight 2 guys, who are very ignorant and just have dumb views on politics and she's like fighting them?? and roger thinks she's adorable and protects here? it would be so AMAZING! i hope you have a great day and thanks for doing all this!💓

(a/n: did a little research for this one, had a night off from work and felt like seeing if i could get this one out tonight. also requests ARE open! Just don’t know how fast they will come out, seeing as I’m back in classes again and my new classes are intensive upper level credits, so the imagines will come out sporadically!! ily! also i figured i should start moving the read more down a bit to give little hints of my work on first glance hehe ok to the imagine)

Your best friend (with a few benefits) Roger was never one to pass up a night out on the town. So, when you hinted at it after a particularly long day of classes, he practically jumped at the offer. You had planned on studying for finals that night, but you needed a drink, and so did he. On top of that, Roger had already been toying with the idea of going out with the boys that night, so you all agreed to go together. Problem was, you were having trouble finding something to wear.

“You’ll be the token woman of the group, it doesn’t matter what you wear!” Roger teased, sitting on the edge of your bed and kicking his feet out as he fell back onto it. He started playing with the buttons on his white shirt, unbuttoning it to the middle, and sighed. “Wear those striped bell bottoms with the white blouse tied up, you’ll have legs for days! Men will be lining up! ”

You rolled your eyes at his flirty undertones, peeking out of your closet for a moment. He was always like this, never had his mind out of the gutter, especially around you. “I’ll smack you silly, Taylor. Keep your mind off my legs!”

“I’m just saying!” he laughed, sitting up and throwing his hands in the air innocently. “It’s a fact!”

You gave him a warning look, then grinned before going back into your closet to find the vertically-striped bell bottoms. “Watch it, mate.” Recently, you’d been trying to fend off his advances until he committed a bit more to going steady with you, and it had been a bit trying for both of you considering you were still close friends.

“Oof,” he said, clutching at his chest dramatically. “So serious, Y/N. If you were any more serious, you’d be a politics major. Oh wait…” he trailed off, grinning at his own stupid joke as you came out of the closet, buttoning up the high-waisted bell bottoms and giving him an eye roll in response. “You took my advice, smart girl!” he cheered, clapping a few times at the outfit while you slipped into your platforms.

“I hate to admit it, but you do give the best fashion advice,” you mumbled, focusing mainly on tying your shirt up at your midriff. You watched yourself in the mirror to do so, and when you were done you glanced over in the mirror to see Roger staring at you in it, a shit-eating grin on his face. You groaned, grabbing your purse and turning to face him. “Come on, you perv. We’ve got to get to the club, the boys will be there soon.”

“Lining up, Y/N!” he proclaimed as he followed you out the door, ignoring your complaints. “They’ll be lining up! And I’ll be the first!”

-

You didn’t beat the boys to the club, but they weren’t hard to find amongst crowd. In fact, they’d managed to grab a booth before the place had exploded with people. You took a seat between John and Roger after grabbing a pint at the bar, where some people were watching the football match between Brazil and England on a big box TV behind the bar. You’d never cared much for the sport, as the matches seemed long and low-scoring, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“Fashionably late?” John asked, referring to your outfits. Neither you nor Roger had underdressed in the slightest, contrasting with John’s jeans and plain blue button up.

“Even politicians have more sense of style than you, John, does that bother you?” Roger retorted, John waving him off in response and taking another drink of his lager.

“Roger, as much as I enjoy teasing John, I can handle my own witty remarks, thank you,” you said, using a warning tone that made Roger hold up his hands in surrender. You instead struck up a conversation with John about classes, seeing as he was a bit younger than the rest of you but remarkably advanced in his field.

After downing your first pint, you excused yourself from the conversation and went to go get another at the bar, Roger saying he’d be there in a moment and whistling after you when you started to walk away, earning a generous middle finger from you.

You approached the bar, waiting for the bartender to give you your turn, and started to watch the football match on the TV. It seemed uneventful at the moment, one Brazil man you somewhat recognized blurring across the screen a couple times. The men nearby that were watching it booed as he did, both of them seeming upset. At first, you figured they were just England fans, but what one of them spit out next stopped you dead in your tracks.

“Bah! His kind shouldn’t even be allowed on the field, fucking disgusting, it is.” It was enough to make your blood boil as you struggling to ignore them, ordering another pint and gripping the edge of the bar tightly.

“You’re absolutely right, Pelé and his whole squad are disgraces to football. Rigged!”

The bartender took your money, ignoring the men down the bar as well and dutifully getting you another beer as you stared straight ahead, struggling to keep your mouth shut. But then the first man said it. He called him that horrific word, six letters, two syllables, starting with an N. The bartender paused for a moment, then shook their head and handed you the beer. You were far past worrying about the beer, however, and you only grabbed it as a possible weapon as you pushed past people down to where the pair men sat crowded around the TV. Approaching the first one, who’d been the last to speak, you dove right in.

“Hey!” you called out, tapping rather forcefully on his shoulder. He turned around, looking at you up and down and smirking.

“You could have just said excuse me, Legs, I’d scoot over for ya,” he replied lecherously, not sure what to make of your aggressive demeanour despite the fact that he was flirting with you. You gagged for a moment, then sat your beer down on the bar and crossed your arms, not even flinching as he stood up in front of you.

“No, what did I hear you say just now?” you demanded. He looked confused, unaware of what you were referring to.

“Legs?” he asked, giving you a look like you were the stupidest person on this side of the planet.

“No, before that!” you replied, your face heating up as you dared him to say it again. And after a smirk and a glance at Pelé on the screen, he did.

“Is that what you meant?” he clarified, steam practically shooting out of your ears at this point.

“You’ve got a set of balls, haven’t you? You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

The guy, who at this point was looking at his friend as if to say ‘this twit,’ shrugged and put his hands in his pockets, smiling almost creepily. “I suppose I do. What’s it to you, are you one of those crazy slags who’s all about civil rights and women’s liberation?”

You raised an eyebrow at the word slag, resisting the urge to swing at him this very instant. “So what if I am? Let’s see who’s on the right side of history in 30 years, mate. Me, or you and your National Front mates?”

“What’s wrong with the National Front?” the other man challenged, finally speaking up. Standing up as well, he was directly behind his friend’s left shoulder, looking at you like you were the scum of the earth. “At least we’re trying to keep tradition alive and make this place not such a fucking shithole for everyone. You and your lot have gone bonkers, you’re filling the whole country with illegals and colored people,” he said, putting a disgusted emphasis on the last two words.

“Jesus Christ, you’re both mental!” you exclaimed, hardly even believing your ears. “You believe you’re cleaning up the cities, when all you’re doing is oppressing and oppressing and denying people like us basic human rights! I can’t even fucking get birth control without paying out the arse for it-“

“Then don’t have sex,” the first one chimed in, getting a nasty look from you. “No one’s forcing you.”

“Oh really?” you remarked bitterly, crossing your arms again. “You think no National Front muppet has ever forced someone to have sex with them? You’re delusional, mate, seriously. And don’t even get me started on your policies, that’s a completely new field of shit.” Though you didn’t know it, Roger had came up to the bar where you were just moments ago, and was now spectating on your bitter back-and-forth with the two men, smiling a bit. You were such a feisty thing, he found it to be one of his favorite qualities of yours. Although he didn’t find you nearly as intimidating because of how much he knew you, it was endearing and he thought you looked really adorable when you got mad.

“Oh piss off,” the second man groaned, clearly over you already. “You probably haven’t got a fucking clue about politics, you daft cunt.”

“I mean, she’s a political science major, so there’s that,” Roger cut in, his voice appearing behind your right shoulder and almost making you jump. You appreciated his presence, but at the same time, you wanted to tell him that you didn’t need his help. The two men looked at him like he was an alien, but Roger appeared entirely unbothered as he went to stand at your side, nonchalantly putting his hands in his pockets. “What’s the problem here, boys?”

“She’s got all pissy because apparently I said a no-no word,” the first one spit back, not even bothering to size up Roger as he stared straight at you, something like malice in his eyes.

“Well, what’d he say?” Roger inquired, looking at you curiously. He had to smile at how angry you looked. It was, as he noted before, cute, but he decided against pointing that out to you right now. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but be attracted to you, even more so in that moment. And that made him want to protect you even more, so he stepped so that he was at least partially between you and the men.

You crossed your arms even further, nodding towards him, then looking at Roger. “Ask him.”

Roger didn’t even have to ask, because the first man jerked a thumb back at the screen and repeated that horrid word for the third time, smirking. “Brazil’s team is full of ‘em. And your little lady here is about to catch a fucking haymaker if she doesn’t get off my case about it.”

“Jesus,” Roger said under his breath, knowing he needed to get you out of that situation now or it was about to get rough. He thought that one second too late, because you’d already grabbed your beer from the bar, taken a quick drink, then threw it in the first man’s face. Roger cursed loudly and turned quickly, wrapping an arm around your waist and tossing you over his shoulder as you tried to throw hands at the now-soaked man who was still in shock. “You’re something, Y/N!” Roger laughed, hoping that he could get out of the club before you broke free.

“Fucking fascist pigs!” you practically screamed, ignoring Roger completely.

“That’s right, take your stupid cunt of a girlfriend elsewhere, mate!” the man yelled after him, now wiping his face off with a couple of cocktail napkins and spewing all types of slurs and general bullshit at you as you flipped him off with both hands, Roger managing to get you out of the club’s door with some difficulty.

Once you were down the sidewalk a bit, Roger finally sat you down, standing between you and the club’s entrance. You started pacing immediately, ranting as Roger stood there with crossed arms and watched you.

“The fucking nerve of that knobhead! Out in broad daylight, just spewing out that nonsense like he was actually delivering the message of God! I’d like to give him a good fucking smack across the face for that shit, I would! What a complete moron - and then they both have the fucking audacity to tell me that I don’t know a fucking thing about politics! Well, fucking excuse me, I forgot I was supposed to be a dumb slag that cooks and cleans and waits hand and foot on fucking men!”

Roger smirked as he listened to you, admiring how passionately you felt about what had just happened. Also, he found it hard to take your anger seriously, even if you were making valid points. It just made you look even cuter to him, and now was not the right time to give in and ask you out for real.

You slowed down after a minute, sighing raggedly and looking over to Roger, who you found to be smiling. “What’s so funny, Roger?” you complained, looking at him with almost a sad look in your eyes. Roger shrugged, trying to hide his smile as you started to tug at your earlobe anxiously, walking over to him. “I could use a hug,” you pretty much demanded, Roger obliging and pulling you into a warm, firm hug. You buried your face in his shoulder, appreciating that he smelled good tonight, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

After a while of just standing there embracing you, Roger finally cleared his throat. “You know, Y/N, earlier I was pretty set on the legs for days thing, but I think you’ve found a new niche with this “cute when angry” thing.”

You gasped and pulled away as far as he would let you, smacking his chest gently as he laughed at your disgust. “You’ve got some fucking nerve too!” you almost whined, trying to push him away and hide your laughter.

Roger’s laugh was always contagious to you, though, so you couldn’t help but start laughing at him, still trying to wriggle out of his grasp. It was just tight enough to keep you locked in his embrace, and yet you kept fighting. “I’m joking, I’m joking!” Roger exclaimed between fits of laughter, grinning. “You can do both of them, though - now then you’d be a real force!”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me right now, Mr. Taylor,” you remarked, giving him a pointed look as he kept his arms around your waist, an innocent look on his face.

“Well, you should be thankful you’re cute, because you’re actually daft if you don’t know that I am,” he replied quickly, giving you the same pointed look in return. You grinned, shaking your head at him, and he whined playfully, pulling you as close as possible and resting one hand on the bare skin of your side, his thumb rubbing circles just below your ribs. “C’mon, I’ve been flirting with you for ages, don’t be coy with me all of a sudden. And we both know that you’re cute and brilliant, so you can’t be that oblivious.”

Sighing, you wrapped your arms around his neck, deciding you could relent for one night. Besides, you could get all your frustrations at that stupid man out too. “You do have a point.” With that, you leaned in, kissing him lightly, and he kissed back almost immediately, hungry for what he’d been missing since you left him out to dry.

But you weren’t going to let him have the satisfaction quite yet, so you pulled away after gently biting onto his lower lip, tugging a bit before letting go and pulling away completely. Roger groaned as you did so, upset at the loss of contact. “But if you ever step in and try to protect me from Nazi pricks again, I’ll chop your balls off, I swear on it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want that,” Roger chuckled, shaking his head before diving in for another kiss, murmuring against your lips between kisses, “I guess I can live with those terms, love.”

[thebrotherscupheadandmugman]

Santa Cup, That’s Me!

Happy Holidays! This wasn’t supposed to be half as long as it turned out to be, and I got the idea literally Christmas Eve and have been working on it since. Sorry it’s late, but way better late than never!!

When I originally started writing this, it was going to take place in the current year this blog is in, 1935, but since it’s so long and elaborate, we’ll consider this the Christmas special of my rewriting, placing it in 1934. 

I also hid a few Easter Eggs here and there. See how many you can find! On that note, always keep in mind that none of the characters (except for Sue, Logan, and Tick and Tock,) belong to me, and that Reblogs > Likes! 

Cuphead and Mugman were nestled quietly in their beds, eagerly awaiting the dawn of Christmas Morning. Cuphead always had trouble sleeping Christmas Eve, and this time was no different. He’d begged both Mugman and Santa for an electric train set, and he was almost certain he was getting one!! The boy tossed and turned in his bed, trying to sleep,but not being able to. 

Suddenly, Cuphead heard something clop clop clopping on the roof. The child shot straight up out of his head as he listened closely to the sounds. Clop clop clop. Jingle jingle jingle. There was only one way these sounds could be coming from the roof above his head. Santa.  “Mugs!!” Cuphead whispered, jumping out of bed and over to shake his brother awake. “Mugs, Mugs, wake up! Santa’s here! Wake up wake up!” “Cuphead?” Mugman mumbled with a sleepy sort of snort.  “Mugman wake up, wake up!! Santa’s here! Santa’s here!! We should catch him and say thanks!!” 

Cuphead dragged his brother out of bed, and pulled him downstairs and down to the Christmas Tree, hoping to catch Santa before he climbed back up the Chimney.

But alas, it seemed the brothers just barely missed him. Cuphead couldn’t help but peak under the Christmas tree and...no train. Talk about disappointing, but Cuphead was still going to thank Santa if he could! “Maybe we can catch him outside!”

The brothers rushed outside, just to see--

There he was. Santa Claus. In the flesh and fur coat. Cuphead never thought he’d see the real Santa! Usually it was just Brineybeard or some other old geezer posing as Santa. The boys could hardly contain themselves.  “SANTA!!” Cuphead shouted. “Ho ho?!” As Santa turned around, his foot slipped on the snowy roof, and he quickly fell off and onto the ground with a loud thud before Cuphead could say ‘thank you!’ The brothers gasped, terribly frightened at what had just happened. “SANTA!!” They both cried, rushing over to his body. “Cuphead, he’s not moving!!”  “Golly, Mugs!! What are we gonna do?!” “We just killed Santa!! No, worse!! We just ruined Christmas for every other kid!!” Cuphead was on the verge tears.”

Cuphead grabbed his brother’s cheeks and looked him right in the eyes.  “There’s only one thing we can do. Hide the body and take his place.” “I-- Cuphead we can’t just--” “Do ya really wanna go ta prison fer th’rest of yer life because we literally killed the Santa Claus?” “No, not really...” Mugman mumbled as he began to consider it. He didn’t particularly want to think about how to hide the body of St. Nick, but what choice did he have?

Mugman eventually sighed. “Fine! But we need to deliver these presents first!!” “Gimme a boost, let’s get up to the sleigh and we’ll look at the list!” “Right!” Mugman nodded, lifting his little brother onto his shoulders, so that the younger could reach the roof with his hand and climb up. “Cup, help me up!” Without another word, Cuphead planted his straw in the snow, to have something to keep him from slipping himself, and grabbed his brother’s hand and pulled him up.  “Let’s get to th’sleigh!” The brothers quickly and carefully crawled up the snowy roof and climbed into Santa’s red sleigh. “How does this work?” Asked Cuphead. Mugman looked around in the sleigh and unrolled a long list of names and addresses of citizens on Inkwell.  “It looks like this is his nice list.” Cuphead opened up the large red sack of gifts behind the seat, only to reveal more sacks of gifts, each in a different colored bag.  “All these bags are different!” “Looks like it’s color coated. How did he do that?” Mugman pondered quietly.

“Alright, here’s the plan! If we split up and cover more ground, we can get all of Isle One done in no time!” Mugman decided.  “How?! We can’t carry all these to the houses outside of the village on foot! They’re too far away!” “I didn’t say we’d be walking.” “Mug! Are you nuts?! We don’t know how to drive this thing!!” “I mean we’ll use our Aeroplanes!” Mugman reasoned. “You start off at the main village and get the residents in town, Like Clara Candlewick and Billy Baker! I’ll take care of the spread-out houses, like Mac and Honey Crisp, and Carrie Blossom!” “Gotchya! I’ll take the big sack in my plane! You just take what you need inta yours!” “Perfect! Let’s save Christmas for Inkwell!”

So the brothers made quick work and took over for St. Nick. Clad in their scarves, earmuffs, and goggles, they flew around above Isle one, landing on the rooftops of each house, and delivering the presents to the folks inside as quietly as they could. Cuphead would often find a bunch of houses close together, and jumped from rooftop to rooftop to deliver each set of gifts. Meanwhile Mugman would have to be careful and quick, since each house was so isolated from the next, if they even had a house at all. He was rather surprised Cagney celebrated Christmas, much less wrote a letter to Santa at all.

“Isle Two next?” Cuphead asked. “Yeah. Thankfully very few people actually live there outside of who we already know, so this should be quick and easy.” Mugman informed, reading over the list as he sat in his grounded plane. “Heck, Wally and Djimmi’s names are under the same address for some reason, so that’s one less stop than we’d already have to make!” “Swell! We should do Wally’s house last, our planes would prolly wake him up.” “Good thinking, Cup! Let’s make tracks!” With that, the ceramic duo were off again, quietly creeping about the isle and delivering all the gifts to good girls and boys within the closed carnival.

That was until the boys hit a roadblock at the Warbles’ house. As the two somehow managed to sneak past a sleeping Wally and climb down the chimney, the brothers fell right into a net, and tumbled out with a loud clink and a poof of soot and ash. “Cuphead, what did you do?!” Mugman coughed, trying to maintain a whisper. “I didn’ do nothin’!” Cuphead hacked. “Somethin’ grabbed me!” The two struggled to break free of the fishnet they were entangled in, pushing and kicking against the ropes in attempts to break free. Mugman hadn’t thought to grab his Charge Shot, so he couldn’t use that to break the ropes, all he had was the Peashooter, which were too small to rely on now. “Cups, did you bring the Lobbers?” “I-I think I left it in my bag at home! But I have the Roundabouts!” “You’ll hit me with that before you break the nets!” 

With all the ruckus and coughing from nearby, a little chick began to stir and open his eyes. Santa came. And he fell right into his trap.  “Puphead! Wake up!” The chick whispered, shaking the wooden boy next to him awake. Puphead slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a sleepy yawn. 

As the smoke cleared, and the porcelain brothers were revealed to be the ones caught in Junior’s trap, Puphead and Junior were shocked to see that it hadn’t been Santa after all, yet they did have a blue-green bag of gifts with them. “What’re you two twit’s doin’ here?! You tryin’ ta steal our Christmas presents?! Is dat it?!” Junior accused, marching over to the brothers. “Wuh-oh.” “Busted!” Mugman turned his head to look at Junior. “N-no! You’ve got it all wrong, we--” “Ooh, my dad was right about yous two!! Just wait until I tell him! Then you’ll really be sorry!!” The chick took a deep breath as Puphead covered his ears, knowing that he would scream for Wally. “No, no, Junior wait!!” “Junior! Stop! We’re tryin’ ta help Santa!!” Junior paused at that. “Wuffor?” He toyed. “He, erm, hurt himself! He twisted his ankle on a piece of firewood sticking out by our chimney, and he can’t climb down chimneys no more! So we’re helping him in our Aeroplanes until he can climb again!” Cuphead lied. “Just let us out, we still got Isle Three ta do!!” “Uh huh...And why should I believe you?” Puphead tugged on Junior’s arm at his suspicion, fully believing the story. “What is it? You believe dis crap?” Puphead nodded, and pointed to the sack in the net that the brothers had. “What the toys dey stole?!” Puphead shook his head and pointed to the fireplace. Junior’s eyes widened. “I...Gosh Puphead, yer right! Dere’s no way they could have taken the gifts before setting off the trap!”  “Junior, untie us, please! We need to hurry up and get started on Isle Three before morning comes!!” Mugman pleaded, looking at his watch. “It’s already almost 11:30! We only have 30 minutes to get the whole entire city!!”  “What?” Junior questioned, already starting to open the net. “Ya think dat da whole city’s gonna just get up at midnight ta open presents?” “No...” Mugman answered, “but someone might!” "Man, you two really are dumb! Ain’ no one gonna get up at midnight ta open gifts, most people’ll be asleep still! I’d say dat the earliest kids are gon’ wake up is at least tree AM. Ya twits still gots time!” “Yeah, but not much! Do ya even know how many people live in th’big city?!” Cuphead pointed out.

Puphead grabbed both of Junior’s shoulders as the brothers were released, and looked at his friend with pleading eyes. Junior turned his head at the touch, and looked the puppet in the eyes for a few moments before he sighed. “Yer right. Tree ‘n a half hours ain’t enough time fer just th’ two ah yas ta cover the entire city.” Junior placed his hands on his hips and puffed up his chest. “But maybe da four of us can make it!” He proclaimed valiantly. “Hot dawg, you’ll really help, Junior?!” Mugman cried. “On one condition! Ya leave dat sack ‘ere fer me ta examine!” “Deal!” The brothers said. “I’ll get my nest! Puphead, yer with me!” Puphead jumped up and down excitedly. 

With the presents unbagged and two new recruits by their side, the four Christmas heroes quickly flew into the city and began their work once again. Apartments, homes, and more, the children were quick to break in and leave their gifts and fill their stockings. Forkington Silverson, Tick and Tock Clocke, Sue Zanshwane, Toby J. Sodor, no house was missed, and no child was forgotten. Every name on the list was crossed out with each house, one by one, and little by little, each house was visited and gifted. 

After what felt like hours of work, the four went back to the carnival and landed. “Junior, you guys got Nancy Nightingale?” “Yup!” “Cup, you went through every apartment in Sally Stageplay’s apartment complex!” “It wasn’t as complicated as the name made it sound!” Mugman snorted at that. “Anybody happen to get Logan Rhythm or Debbie Doll?” “I got Logan!” Cuphead exclaimed, raising his hand, “Puphead n’ I got Debbie!” Mugman crossed off two more names. “Guys! We did it! That’s everyone on Inkwell before two AM!”  “Yahoo!!” Cuphead cheered as Puphead jumped in excitement. “Great. Merry Christmas.” Junior grumbled, trying not to appear as happy as he was feeling. “Puphead, ‘m tired, let’s go home!” Puphead nodded, and walked walked back to Wally’s house with Junior as he waved the brothers good night. “Merry Christmas Junior!” Mugman called. “Merry Christmas Puphead!” 

Cuphead sighed, with a visible breath and turned to his brother.  “Mugsy, ‘m tired too. We should go home and sleep before we wake Elder Kettle.” Mugman was surprised that his little brother was choosing to go to sleep over opening presents on Christmas Morning. Cuphead had to have been really tired to make a decision like that!  “Yeah, we will. I’m freezing anyway. I feel like there’s frozen milk in my straw at this point. Just let me double check to make sure we didn’t miss anyone. “What? Why?” Cuphead asked, already crawling back into his Aeroplane. “You just said we got everyone!” “Santa always checks his list twice! The song Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town says so!” “Wasn’t that written last year?” Cuphead grumbled, before something in Mugman’s plane caught his attention. The giant red sack of toys didn’t look so empty...

As if on cue, Mugman’s straw popped out of his head to form a shivering exclamation point. “Cuphead, we missed someone! A little girl named Evelyn Etting in the village!” “There’s another bag in there! It’s gotta be fer her family!” “Let’s shake a leg!” The brothers cried, hopping into their Aeroplanes and flying as close to the village as possible. 

Unfortunately for them, it began to snow, so they’d have to go into the town and get on the roof by foot due to dangerous weather conditions. The brothers ran as they rushed to her house, Mugman worried about not being able to find a way up to the roof or inside the house. “Look Mug! A ladder!” Cuphead motioned with his whole hand. “It leads up to th’roof!” “That’s swell!” The brothers quickly climbed the ladder of the green house, carefully crossed the roof, and dropped down the chimney with the purple bag of gifts. There was quite a lot to unload, but one the ceramic duo was finished, they each had one cookie and a shared glass of milk, then crawled back out the red bricked chimney.

“Oh Golly! That was a lot.” Cuphead sighed, stretching his back as he stood on the chimney.  “Cuphead, get off the chimney before you fall and shatter yourself.” Mugman scolded. “Golly Mugs! Look at the town from up here! The snow makes it look so nifty!” “Cup. We need to get home before Elder Kettle realizes we’re gone.” “Wait a minute, Mug! We took Santa’s place, right? There’s somethin’ we still gotta say before we go home!” “What? ‘Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night?’ Cuphead, there’s at least five Jewish kids in our school that don’t celebrate Christmas, you’ll just be annoying them if you wake them up for that.” “Maybe, but we can say somethin’ else so that the Jewish don’ feel left out!” “Cuphead, let’s just get off the--” Mugman’s left foot suddenly sank into the snow, causing him to wobble and lift his right foot in the air as he lost his balance. Cuphead, however, didn’t notice, but instead put his left hand up to his mouth as he took a deep breath and cried,

The clock tower chimed with two loud BONGs, and the screen soon faded to the Kettle’s front lawn.

Aeroplanes abandoned for the time being, the two brothers returned home, having forgotten what started this mess in the first place, until Cuphead suddenly remembered. “Mugs! Santa!! Whadda we do about him?!” “Oh no, you’re right!” The brothers began sprinting to where the body once was, but instead of Santa’s motionless carcass, they only found an imprint in the snow of what once was there. “What the-- where’d he go?!” “Cuphead, look!” Mugman jabbed his little brother with his elbow and pointed to the roof with two fingers.

Just as Cuphead looked up, Santa was there, alive and well as if nothing ever happened. He flicked the reigns, and his reindeer galloped off and away, flying overhead as he left Inkwell Isle.

“On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer, and Vixen! On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen!”  “Woah!” The brothers both gasped. “Oh ho ho ho! Merry Christmas to all! And to all a good night!”

The brothers stood for a moment, before Cuphead suddenly sneezed, not a single drop of milk leaving his head, despite the sudden motion. “Bless you.” “Mugs, did we just get used by Santa?” “I don’t think so. I think he was just knocked out and we took it upon ourselves to help.” “Hitchiew!”  “Bless you. We’d better get inside before we catch a cold.” “Fine.” Cuphead sniffled.

The brothers stepped inside, and were welcomed with a completely different scene than what they had left with. There had been twice as many gifts than before, and their Christmas tree was bigger, brighter, and prettier than ever.  “Wowza...” The brothers both gasped.  “Mugman, look!” Cuphead motioned to a letter in the middle of the tree. Mugman grabbed it and opened it, holding it low enough for Cuphead to read as well. “What’s it say?!”

“Dear Cuphead and Mugman,

You two gave me quite the scare when you suddenly showed up outside. I certainly didn’t expect you to leave the house when you saw the presents.” As Mugman read the note, the voice of Santa himself could be heard, as if he was speaking directly to the brothers.

“I thoroughly appreciate you wanting to thank me for what I do every year, Cuphead, but as always, your actions do not match well with your good intentions. Oh, but don’t worry. It’ll take a little more than just a silly old fall to make jolly old Saint Nick take the big sleep. Thank you so much for putting the rest of Inkwell’s needs before trying to get yourselves out of trouble, boys. Santa’s little helpers not only put Junior Warbles higher up on the nice list, but also made him begin to understand the true meaning of Christmas. 

As thanks, I left you boys extra gifts this year, some perhaps against your grandfather’s wishes. Cuphead, the large red box under this note is for you. After tonight, you’ve certainly been a good enough boy to have earned this: be careful not to spill! Mugman, the round one in blue is yours. I hope you think back to this night whenever you listen to it. 

Never stop striving to do the right thing, regardless of what you fear. Always remember to learn from your mistakes, and do what you believe in. 

Merry Christmas to you both.

Signed,” “Mr. C.”

The brothers looked at each other for a few moments as the heard the floorboards above them creak. Somehow, they must have woken Elder Kettle up. Panicked, the brothers scrambled to kick the snow off their boots, and hide their scarves and earmuffs under the couches. Just as they could hear the stairs creak with their grandfather’s presence, the boys looked at each other and flipped the other’s straw upside down to hide the frozen milk on the other end.  “Boys?” “Elder Kettle, Santa came!” “Have you any idea what the time is?!” “We’re sorry, Elder Kettle, we didn’t wanna wake you.” “Yeah! Mug an’ I were just curious ta see if he came! We were gonna letchya sleep in a little longer!” Cuphead added before he paused, and grabbed his left wrist. “...But since yer up, can we open presents now?!”  “Good gosh, Cuphead.” Mugman sighed, putting a hand on his face. 

Elder Kettle sighed. “I suppose. Since we’re all already up!” He smiled as he continued climbing down the stairs. “Yaay!!” The brothers immediately grabbed the gifts that Santa mentioned in his note, and quickly tore off the paper. Since Mugman’s was so much smaller, it hadn’t taken him long at all to open the record. “What’d ya get, Mugsy?!” Mugman turned the vinyl over in his hand, and read the title out loud. “Santa Claus, That’s Me!...” “Well then, shall we listen to it?” Elder Kettle offered, holding his hand out for the record. Mugman gave his grandpa a smile and nodded as he handed the song to him. Elder Kettle quickly shuffled over to the record player, and put on the song. 

A string followed by jingling bells filled the room, accompanied by Cuphead tearing open the large gift. “Way up above me is The ice and snow where the eyes of no one may see With my dear little men And my wonderful shop Little ole Santa Claus, that’s me!

I’m building my toys For girls and boys A labor of love is mine.  And I’m more than repaid For visits I’ve made When children’s eyes dance and shine!  As time rolls along  With a very old song At work I am always found. For I’m busy each day But in a wonderful way But when Christmas time comes round, 

Then away I go Over the ice and snow To finish my trip before the day is dawning. I’ll carry my pretty toys For all the girls and boys To make them gay and happy Christmas morning!”

Mugman smiled at the song, just as Cuphead had finally unwrapped his present. “An electric train set!!” Cuphead squealed with joy. The child was so thrilled that he hugged the package with small milky tears in his eyes. He’s wanted one of these for years, but Elder Kettle always thought they were dangerous. Elder Kettle was about to scold the boy, and tell him that they’ll have to return it, but seeing his grandson with tears of joy made him choose otherwise. He didn’t have the heart to tell Cuphead he couldn’t have something that made him so happy on Christmas. “I’d better not find that thing left on, young man!”  “Yes! Of course, Elder Kettle!!” Cuphead beamed as he giggled with pure joy. 

The brothers continued opening their gifts, as the snow jingled as it fell down outside. As the picture was zooming away from the Kettle’s house, it soon circled to black, as the cursive words ‘Happy Holidays’ wrote themselves in gold on the screen, before finally fading to black.

[karnivalkrew]

Santa Cup is Coming to Town

Poof! 

Clink!

As Junior and Puphead were sleeping, the chick heard these sounds, followed by whispering and hacking. With all the ruckus and coughing from nearby, a little chick began to stir and open his eyes. Santa came. And he fell right into his trap.  “Puphead! Wake up!” Junior whispered, shaking the wooden boy next to him awake. Puphead slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a sleepy yawn. “Santa’s in our grasp! Time to get ta work!” The chick snickered as he rubbed his feathery hands together.

The two hid around the corner to see a cloud of sooty smoke, as if someone were caught in a struggle, and heard whispers, as if two people were quietly arguing. “What da hay is goin’ on in dere?! Who is Santa talkin’ ta?” Puphead moved his fingers on either side of his face, trying to make it look like he had pointy ears. “Elves? Yeah, I guess maybe.”

As the smoke cleared, and the porcelain brothers were revealed to be the ones caught in Junior’s trap, Puphead and Junior were shocked to see that it hadn’t been Santa after all, yet they did have a blue-green bag of gifts with them. “What’re you two twit’s doin’ here?! You tryin’ ta steal our Christmas presents?! Is dat it?!” Junior accused, marching over to the brothers.  “Wuh-oh.” “Busted!” Mugman turned his head to look at Junior. “N-no! You’ve got it all wrong, we--” “Ooh, my dad was right about yous two!! Just wait until I tell him! Then you’ll really be sorry!!” The chick took a deep breath as Puphead covered his ears, knowing that he would scream for Wally. “No, no, Junior wait!!” “Junior! Stop! We’re tryin’ ta help Santa!!” Junior paused at that. “Wuffor?” He toyed. “He, erm, hurt himself! He twisted his ankle on a piece of firewood sticking out by our chimney, and he can’t climb down chimneys no more! So we’re helping him in our Aeroplanes until he can climb again!” Cuphead lied. “Just let us out, we still got Isle Three ta do!!” “Uh huh...And why should I believe you?” Puphead tugged on Junior’s arm at his suspicion, fully believing the story. “What is it? You believe dis crap?” Puphead nodded, and pointed to the sack in the net that the brothers had. “What the toys dey stole?!” Puphead shook his head and pointed to the fireplace. Junior’s eyes widened. “I...Gosh Puphead, yer right! Dere’s no way they could have taken the gifts before setting off the trap!” “Junior, untie us, please! We need to hurry up and get started on Isle Three before morning comes!!” Mugman pleaded, looking at his watch. “It’s already almost 11:30! We only have 30 minutes to get the whole entire city!!” “What?” Junior questioned, already starting to open the net. “Ya think dat da whole city’s gonna just get up at midnight ta open presents?” “No...” Mugman answered, “but someone might!” "Man, you two really are dumb! Ain’ no one gonna get up at midnight ta open gifts, most people’ll be asleep still! I’d say dat the earliest kids are gon’ wake up is at least tree AM. Ya twits still gots time!” “Yeah, but not much! Do ya even know how many people live in th’big city?!” Cuphead pointed out.

Puphead grabbed both of Junior’s shoulders as the brothers were released, and looked at his friend with pleading eyes. Junior turned his head at the touch, and looked the puppet in the eyes for a few moments before he sighed. “Yer right. Tree ‘n a half hours ain’t enough time fer just th’ two ah yas ta cover the entire city.” Junior placed his hands on his hips and puffed up his chest. “But maybe da four of us can make it!” He proclaimed valiantly. “Hot dawg, you’ll really help, Junior?!” Mugman cried. “On one condition! Ya leave dat sack ‘ere fer me ta examine!” Junior negotiated. The only way Santa could do what he does is through magic. And all magic was was unexplained science. With that magic bag, he could reverse engineer it, and figure out how Santa covers so much ground in so little time. “Deal!” The brothers said. “I’ll get my nest! Puphead, yer with me!” Puphead jumped up and down excitedly.

With the presents unbagged and two new recruits by their side, the four Christmas heroes quickly flew into the city and began their work once again. Apartments, homes, and more, the children were quick to break in and leave their gifts and fill their stockings. Forkington Silverson, Tick and Tock Clocke, Sue Zanshwane, Toby J. Sodor, no house was missed, and no child was forgotten. Every name on the list was crossed out with each house, one by one, and little by little, each house was visited and gifted.

At first, Junior only had one motive for this. That magic bag. He needed to unlock Santa’s secrets, and that might just be the key he needed. But after a while, something changed. Junior loved to see all the different ways people decorated for Christmas, and each house had decorations that just made him happy. That was until he and Puphead would start to unload the gifts, and Junior would get jealous of how much bigger some gifts were compared to his. Often times, Puphead would have to push the chick back with his foot in order to keep his feathers off it. 

As Puphead started unloading the gifts for one house, Junior started to help, until he shook one and could hear something wooden inside. “Wait a minute!” Junior held the gift close to his ear canal and shook again. “I think it’s a radio! I need dials fer my latest invention!” Junior turned the gift over in his hands and got ready to tear it open before Puphead grabbed his hands and stopped him. “What?” Puphead could only give him a look, and point to the tag on the present. “It ain’t mine? So what? What’ve dese people ever done fer us? Wes doin’ ‘em a favah, and they don’t even know it! It’s just one gift, they won’t even know it’s missin’!” Puphead gave Junior a huffy pout, and pointed to the dirty old ragdoll next to the plate of milk and cookies. “Dirty doll? So what?” Puphead pointed to the doll again, then to the military hat that hung on the wall with pride. Junior froze when he saw the hat. Dad was in the Great War... Always talked to Nana about how many times he’d see families torn apart on the battlefield, regardless of what day it was, when they thought he was asleep. Beside the hat was a photo of a soldier, with some sort of telegram message inside the picture frame. Junior didn’t need to read it to know what it said. He suddenly felt sick with guilt. 

With a reluctant sigh, the chick set the present down underneath the tree, easing the pain of his guilt, as well as earning a pat on the shoulder from Puphead.  “Who are you?” A little dog girl in a pink nightgown asked, peeking from behind the corner. “Are you taking our presents?” Puphead waved his arms ‘no,’ and Junior just stared, quickly thinking of how to answer her. “Nope. We just someah Santa’s helpers.” “Where’s Santa?” “Mainland. Since Inkwell’s so small, he just has a few folks like us delivering gifts.” “...I thought Santa had elves.” “Da elves make da toys, we just transport ‘em.” Junior lied, placing another gift under the tree. “Was dere somethin’ datchya needed? We’re only supposed ta come when yer sleepin’.” “Oh...um...I think I left my dolly when I was setting up the milk and cookies.” Junior felt bad for the kid. Probably didn’t even know that relative in the picture. The chick crawled over to the doll, grabbed it, then walked over to the little girl. “Here. Just get ta bed, so we can get back ta work. And tell no one ya saw us, okay?” The dog smiled as her tail wagged in her jammies behind her. She took the doll and nodded. “Okay. Thank you for what you do. I hope Santa makes sure your Christmas is as magical as you make everyone else’s!” Something about that just made Junior feel...happy. No, he wasn’t getting anything more than a magic bag out of this, but just seeing the little girl smile made him feel like he’d been praised for a great accomplishment. “Yeah, well, Merry Christmas, kid.” “Merry Christmas!” She whispered, and quietly dashed back upstairs with her doll. 

Junior turned around and looked back at Puphead, who gave him a happy, yet smug look.  “What? Don’ think much about it! I just wanted da twit outta our feathers! Get movin’ we gots work ta do!”

After what felt like hours of work, the four went back to the carnival and landed. “Junior, you guys got Nancy Nightingale?” “Yup!” “Cup, you went through every apartment in Sally Stageplay’s apartment complex!” “It wasn’t as complicated as the name made it sound!” Mugman snorted at that. “Anybody happen to get Logan Rhythm or Debbie Doll?” “I got Logan!” Cuphead exclaimed, raising his hand, “Puphead n’ I got Debbie!” Mugman crossed off two more names. “Guys! We did it! That’s everyone on Inkwell before two AM!” “Yahoo!!” Cuphead cheered as Puphead jumped in excitement. “Great. Merry Christmas.” Junior grumbled, trying not to appear as happy as he was feeling. “Puphead, ‘m tired, let’s go home!” Puphead nodded, and walked walked back to Wally’s house with Junior as he waved the brothers good night. “Merry Christmas Junior!” Mugman called. “Merry Christmas Puphead!”

As the two boys snuck past a sleeping Wally, they went back to the spot on the floor that they’d been sleeping on, and went back to sleep.

In the morning, Puphead suddenly shook Junior awake with an intense excitement. “What? What is it?!” Junior grumbled, trying to sleep in again. Puphead continued to shake and pull the blankets off his friend to try and wake him. “Pup, we already saw what was under there, what’s the point in--” Puphead suddenly pulled Junior to sit upright, and pointed to the room with all the presents. “What?!” Junior stood, rubbing his eyes as Puphead pulled him along. When they entered the Christmas room, the whole area had almost completely changed. There were more decorations than there had ever been, and the tree almost seemed bigger and brighter! What’s more, there were more gifts under the tree than there had been when Cuphead and Mugman came.  “What is dis?!” Puphead quickly found a note and gave it to Junior to read. “A letter?” The chick opened the note and began reading out loud for Puphead.

“Dear Wally Jr. and Puphead,

You two certainly made for some fine, unexpected help. Coming from the boy who attempts to capture me every year, and the little boy brought into this world not too long ago, you two did a very good thing for Inkwell.” As Junior read the note, the voice of Santa himself could be heard, as if he was speaking directly to the boys.

“Junior, despite your suspicions for the Kettle’s, you and Puphead gave them the benefit of the doubt, and joined forces to help make everyone else have a magical Christmas. You two are close friends, and very good influences on each other. Puphead, for someone so young, you already understand the meaning of Christmas, and helped Junior begin to understand it too. The world needs more selfless, kind, peaceful boys like you. And Junior, you have begun to understand that the meaning of Christmas doesn’t come from a store, and has no price tag. Christmas is not a time about getting things, but giving to others. You have experienced the joy in making others happy, and for that, you’ve proven that you truly belong on the nice list.

As thanks for the hard work you two did last night, I made another stop, and gave you a few extra presents. I hope that next year you two will be good enough that I am able to come back with more. Never lose that sense of joy that comes with making others happy. Merry Christmas.

Signed, Mr. C.”

“Wowza...” Junior breathed, before Puphead suddenly left his side to hug his father. “Mornin’ Pup!” Djimmi smiledl lifting his wooden son. “You two already up?! The alarm hasn’t even gone off!” Djimmi suddenly transformed into a rooster, and crowed loudly at the rising sun. “Now it has!” He said, looking out at the audience. “Merry Christmas, champ!” Wally smiled as Djimmi changed back to his normal form, and held Puphead in his arms once more. “Dad!!” Junior tossed the note aside and gave his dad a big hug. “Merry Christmas!”  “Looks like Santa was good to you boys this year.” Wally noted. Puphead nodded wildly until he eventually made himself dizzy, and fell into Djimmi’s chest. The ex-genie let out a hearty laugh.  “I guess someone’s excited for Christmas!” “Well, wadda we waitin’ fer?! Let’s open presents, Puphead!!” Junior cheered, diving head first into the pile of gifts left by the brothers and Santa. 

Djimmi set Puphead down as Nana flew onto her perch to watch the children’s joy. Junior tore into a small gift box wrapped in dark blue, and gasped in excitement. “No way!! Da fat man came trew aftah all!” The child beamed, dumping out two radio dials from the box and into his hand. Puphead pulled out a small box wrapped in blue-green, and tentatively opened the paper like he watched Junior do. He opened the small white box and pulled out a few layers of tissue paper before he eventually pulled out a small snow globe to be hung on the tree. The wooden child blinked in surprise and gave it a shake, watching the snow inside the glass. Two figures were on the other side, Junior and himself, each carrying a sack of toys together in their winter clothes, and at the base of the ornament, the words, “First Christmas 1934″ were etched in a golden cursive. Puphead’s eyes lit up with pure joy as he waved to Junior to show him. “Woah! But how--” That sneaky Santa... “Ah, who cares?! Merry Christmas pal! We should do dis again next year!!”